Bride Price
by xxkattiaxx
Summary: A dark, dystopic wizarding world where the marriage law is in effect with a sympathetic Severus Snape. How will our favorite Gryffindor respond? HGSS. As AU as you get. Rated 'M' for mature subject matter and sexual situations.
1. Gryffindor Courage

Bride Price

A dark, dystopic wizarding world where the marriage law is in effect with a sympathetic Severus Snape. How will our favorite Gryffindor respond? HGSS. As AU as you get.

Rated 'M' for mature subject matter and sexual situations.

Don't own it.

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::Gryffindor Courage::

Looking at herself in the mirror, Hermione tried to draw courage from her reflection. All she could gather, however, was trepidation and fear. The words 'wedding night', 'consummation', and 'vaginal tearing' circling 'round and 'round in her thoughts.

And then there was her bridegroom. The man himself calling a few more words to mind: formidable, uncompromising, heartless.

Severus Snape, Master of Potions, Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions professor, and she his student-bride.

Shaking her head once more at the surreal turn her life had taken, Hermione drew a deep breath and turned to face the door.

It was time to greet her new husband.

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Severus watched from his seated position as the shadow played along the thin strip of light on the floor where the closed bathroom door lay. He did not need occlumency to read his new bride's thoughts.

Bride.

And as of today, he now a husband.

What a farce.

He looked down at the glass of firewhiskey he held and contemplated having another but decided against it. He needed all his faculties intact for his wedding night.

His new bride deserved nothing less than this consideration.

Finishing the glass, he rose and began to undress. There would be no easy way to do this; it was going to be awkward for them both.

But he would spare her as much awkwardness and embarrassment as he could considering the circumstances.

It would surprise her, he knew, to know he was being considerate of her at all, but when Severus made a vow 'to have and to hold', he meant the words even if his bride—his child-bride—did not.

She was eighteen, barely a woman, but that did not stop the Ministry from auctioning off her innocence to the highest bidder.

However, these were the times in which they lived.

The wizarding world in the wake of Tom Riddle's demise was a terrifying place for pure-blooded, half-blooded, and muggle-born witches alike. The devastation from the war was vast; nearly four-fifths of the wizarding population in Great Britain had been obliterated in the time it took for Tom Riddle to breathe his last.

After all, no one had known about the spell hidden in the magical registry, and when all witches and wizards, except for those in hiding or those that had already pledged allegiance to the Dark Lord, signed the Ministry of Magic enforced registry during Pious Thickness's reign as Minister, little did they know they were signing their own death warrants.

Half-blooded, pure-blooded, muggle-born: if the registry was signed by name, be it by the actual signee or a legal guardian, then that person was dead when Tom Riddle died.

Severus closed his eyes, not wanting to remember, unable to stop remembering the sight of his colleagues and students falling all around him like marionettes with their strings cut as he stood by useless to aid them.

Breathing in deep, he dispelled his thoughts of that time. It was more than a year and gone now; the war if not yet a distant memory, then a memory all the same.

And he had survived it.

She had too.

And now, thanks to this Machiavellian ministerial regime, they were husband and wife until death do they part.

Hearing her shushing footfalls, he hurriedly unbuttoned his waistcoat and removed his cravat.

The hour was growing late, and they had much to accomplish this night.

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Steeling herself to what she must do, Hermione reached for the door with a trembling hand, her heart beating a frantic pace as she opened it, unsure of what she'd find.

She bit her lip.

He had his back to her—her professor—and even as she watched he was undoing one of the silver cuff-links at his sleeve. His back stiffened, and she knew he'd heard her open the door.

"Would you prefer the lights on or off, Miss Grang—Madam Snape?"

She gulped at his slip _and_ at his use of her new title.

"Hermione please, professor," she said distantly, "And I'd like them on."

He turned around, his expression one of mild surprise. "Are you afraid of the dark, Miss Gra—girl? Or are you, in the spirit of Gryffindor, courageously bearding the serpent in his den."

"Yes," she answered succinctly, coming to stand by the bed and looking up at him.

"Well, which is it?" he asked testily.

"Both."

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She looked lost was Severus's first thought: her eyes too big and too innocent by half standing there in bare feet and with none but her night rail to guard against the chill of the dungeons.

His eyes narrowed. "Answer me honestly: what would you have me do? We must consummate our marriage, but it needn't be tonight. Would you rather wait until the end of the week?"

Pursing her lips, she immediately shook her head, not wanting to voice her thoughts.

"Very well," Severus said solemnly, "It's in the spirit of 'getting a bad job over and done' we will embark. Have you taken the fertility potion?" he asked with clinical detachment.

Hanging her head, Hermione nodded.

She would not cry. She _would_ not cry.

Oh, damn call back the tears. _God only knows what he'll say and do when he sees you weep_ , she thought panic-stricken.

"Sit here and drink this, girl." More gently than his tone indicated, Professor Snape led her to a wingback chair and bade her to sit, thrusting a tumbler of firewhiskey in her hand. "I will give you a calming draught if it will help."

She shook her head, unable to look up.

He lifted the glass to her lips. "Drink."

Hermione did so, feeling the slow burn of the alcohol wind its way down her throat to pool at her churning stomach. She prayed she wouldn't be sick.

Professor Snape seated himself across from her in the other wingback chair, and it was some minutes the two spent in quiet contemplation while Hermione tried to pull herself together.

At length, her eyes darted up to find she was the object of his intense scrutiny.

He shook his head, "Gryffindor bravery does have its place, Madam Snape, but it is not in my bed, not tonight. You and I will take the week to better acquaint ourselves with one another, and then… and then we will make our marriage complete in act as well as troth."

So saying, Professor Snape rose to his feet and left the room, leaving a very relieved Hermione Snape in his wake.

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	2. Scheherazade

Bride Price

Ch. 2: Scheherazade

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Her classmates were staring.

Hermione tried to focus on the Transfiguration lesson Professor Trishna was teaching, she really did. They were to have a practical tomorrow, and although she was prepared in theory, she needed to practice before she felt confident enough to display what she learned.

Even as she watched, a Slytherin sixth year smirked at her and mouthed, 'teacher's pet" before grinning at her wickedly.

She quickly averted her eyes. The fifth through seventh years were grouped together as it didn't make sense to have separate classes any longer. There weren't enough survivors left to warrant it. Hers was the biggest class in the school with far more Slytherins and Gryffindors than Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Of the poor Hufflepuffs, there was only a small smattering of that house left.

Those of Gryffindor house that were left were the bravest of the brave. Those left of Slytherin were children of Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers who were not convicted or charged with crimes. Those remaining of Ravenclaw had been smart enough to keep their heads down and avoid the Ministry and its regime as much as possible. However, of the Hufflepuffs, that most loyal and trusting house, their numbers were decimate.

The first through fourth years in all houses but Slytherin were scant, indeed, as these were the classes most affected. When the Ministry of Magic Enforced Magical Registry was instituted, the majority of well-meaning parents had put their fallen classmates' names down in the registry as well as their own, and when Voldemort died—Hermione's thoughts stopped there. No, she wouldn't think of that time. It hurt too badly.

This was her last class of the day, and after dinner, she would not be returning to the Gryffindor common room but instead going to the dungeon quarters she now shared with her new husband.

Six more nights. Six more nights until they had to ratify the marriage or she faced a term in Azkaban as well as being stripped of her magic. Six more nights before she became with child.

Again, Hermione felt sick.

Making her way to the great hall, she sat at her customary place and waited for the food to appear. When it did, she ate mechanically even though it tasted like chalk in her mouth.

Looking down the sparsely attended table, she saw a red-haired witch looking as dejected as she herself felt, and Ron was trying to cheer her up. Poor Ginny had only just learned she was being forced to accept Lucius Malfoy as her intended; her pure blood status a boon to him.

Ginny had been so in love with Harry: the boy who lived to outlive Voldemort but who died immediately after by Rodolphus Lestrange's Avada Kedavra.

The Malfoy patriarch had not been implicated in the war, having deflected or misdirected his dealings so the Ministry could not charge him with anything stronger than conspiracy to commit acts of mayhem and murder. However even in this, with the aid of an excellent Barrister of Magical Law, the charges were ultimately dropped.

His son Draco did not fare as well and was even now occupying a cell in Azkaban. Mrs. Malfoy, having perished in the Final Battle meant Lucius was in the market for a new wife, and Ginny Weasley fit the bill nicely.

He had paid a king's ransom for her.

Ginny, due to being underage, had been given a special dispensation to attain adulthood and finish her education, while Hermione, although still a student herself, was of age and therefore compelled by the ministry to wed, bed, and immediately breed.

Three children.

She was ordered to have no less than three children before she could consider her _debt_ to the wizarding world complete, and the threat of being stripped of her magic and sent to prison lifted.

Intellectually, Hermione could understand the logic behind the ministry's decree. The war had all but annihilated the European wizarding world, and the auctioning off of young, nubile witches of breeding age to virulent and wealthy wizards was a brilliant way to pay for war reparations as well as ensure the next generation of magical children survived.

But Hermione had fought in the accursed war; she had done her bit for God and country as the saying went, and she should not be asked for this.

That was, however, where logic failed and ministerial decree began.

Hermione had combed the marriage law looking for a loophole: using muggle birth control, not consummating the marriage, moving to Antarctica, relinquishing her magic, all of it. The Ministry had covered every base and left nothing to chance.

As it stood, she was registered as a witch of Great Britain when her name appeared on the ledger at Hogwarts, and due to this new law, her uterus was now public domain to be used how the Ministry of Magic saw fit.

She knew the bride price on her head had been vast. Being a 'war hero' and best friend of Harry Potter, the boy who had not in the end lived, had attained her a certain _celebrity_ had it not? And not for the first time the thought occurred to Hermione that Professor Snape had chosen her, had bid for her.

The attention was not flattering.

Why her? Why had the man spent such a large sum of gold for her? The thought would not be quelled.

"Madam," a house elf suddenly squeaked before her, and Hermione looked up from her musings, the tines of her fork making mush of her shepherd's pie.

"Professor Snape has asked for you to meet him in the potion's classroom after dinner, ma'am." With a curtsey, the little elf 'popped' away.

Her mouth dry, Hermione looked up to head table to see the man himself studying her studiously with a frown of concentration on his face. Rising from the table and turning her back to him, she decided a stroll upon the grounds before they met was what she needed. Maybe then the gall of her situation would be tolerable enough to stomach.

Although, she highly doubted it.

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It had been many years since Severus Snape had actively sought to 'woo' the fairer sex, and in any event 'wooing' had hardly been part of his trysts which, more often than not, resembled business transactions than affaires de coeur.

As he waited for his wife in the potion's classroom, his fingers busying themselves with stirring the base for the experimental potion he was brewing, he thought how best to go about seducing one Hermione Jean Granger-Snape.

He did not want to hurt her. She had been through too much already in her young life.

In fact, he wanted to make it good for her.

The girl was a virgin, verified by the healers at St. Mungo's, and while this thought held little appeal for him—he preferred his partners to be knowledgeable— the thought of teaching her and awakening her to such delights as bedroom sport did hold a certain charm for him.

It was obvious the girl loved to learn new things, and he had an inkling therein lay the key to her trust in him. However, only a week did they have to build this bridge between them before they would have to couple, thereby impregnating her, and Severus didn't know if that would be enough time to make her aware of him as a man instead of her most loathed professor.

He heard the door to his classroom open, and Severus reminded himself to be gentle and above all patient with her.

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"Good evening, Madam Snape," Professor Snape stated with a formal nod of his head, "if you would come join me at the front of the classroom… please."

Hermione was taken aback. He'd said 'please'. He'd actually said 'please' to her. A little distrustfully, Hermione approached the potion's bench, intrigued despite herself at what Professor Snape was brewing.

"Come stand by me," he ordered not looking up. "I need you to continue stirring while I prepare these shriveled figs. The potion is at a critical stage and cannot be left unattended."

Hermione did as bid, reaching for the glass stirring rod, her fingers momentarily brushing his as he gestured she should intercept it mid-stir. "What are we making, sir?" she asked not knowing if he would answer her or consider her question impertinent.

To her surprise, however, he did. "We are performing an experiment of mine, madam, designed to help those with trembling disorders due to extended Cruciatus exposure regain mobility in their limbs. As you can imagine, there are those who still have residual curse damage from the war, and St. Mungo's has asked me, in addition to those few remaining potion masters left in Great Britain, to help."

Hermione looked up, her opinion of her potion's professor altering slightly. "That's very… generous of you, sir."

"Not necessarily, Madam Snape," he corrected. His intentional use of her new title was beginning to grate on Hermione's nerves. "My motives are not entirely altruistic, you see."

 _How so_ , she longed to ask but did not. His proximity to her was beginning to unnerve her. Even as she had the thought, he reached around her to grab the jar of powdered scarab beetles, his front momentarily resting against her back.

He continued, "And so, you and I will begin to experiment using tonight's work as a base for the derivatives we plan to devise. Now stir widdershins four times," he instructed.

She did so, and once more she felt him reach around her, bringing his front in contact with her back as he added his mixture into the potion. This was the closest they had ever stood together, and she grit her teeth and forced herself to accept it. She was going to have to get used to this and more besides.

Once he added the final ingredients, the watery green brew she was stirring which had but a moment ago resembled sludge immediately changed to cerulean flecked with gold. She leaned forward to better admire his work and was a bit disconcerted when her professor did so as well. This put his face within inches of her own.

Her breath hitched as he turned his head, his onyx eyes meeting hers as his lips upturned a bit. "Good job, Madam Snape, three points to Slytherin." He stepped back, and she immediately rounded on him.

"Slytherin?" she cried.

He nodded a small smile quirking his lips, "Yes, Slytherin. You are, due to being married to me in the eyes of Hogwarts' school, now officially recognized as a Slytherin with all rights and privileges therein." He smirked, "You will, however, always remain a Gryffindor to me."

Drawing up short, it occurred to Hermione Professor Snape was teasing her, and feeling more than a little put-off by the thought, she watched as he cast a stasis spell over the potion and began to magically gather students' scrolls from his desk.

"Now, the two of us are going back to my quarters. You have homework do you not?"

She nodded.

"And I have marking. It is in this way we will pass our evenings together." So saying, he dissolved the wards leading from his office to his chambers, and she followed in his wake.

Upon arriving to his study, she noticed her desk had been moved from Gryffindor tower to opposite his, and her modest but prized collection of books placed on a bookshelf beside it.

"You will have two hours to complete your work, and then for the last thirty minutes before we retire, I would like you to pick something for me to read."

She looked at him curiously as he took his seat.

"And do make it interesting, madam. After marking this latest batch of essays, I will no doubt need something entertaining to restore my good humor." Again, he smirked at her, and she had the disconcerting feeling he was teasing her again.

Forgetting her nerves for a moment, she arched a brow, "Am I to be your own personal Scheherazade as well as your wife?"

Not even looking up from his grading, he said, "I did pay a small fortune for you, Madam Snape; I intend to get my galleon's worth."

She cringed as thoughts of a different sort of payment intruded upon her including the words: 'bride price', 'wedding night', and 'whore'. Once more the thoughts circled in her mind, _Why? Why did you want me?_ But again, she did not ask, only turned to her desk, trying to focus on her homework and revision until it was time for her to read.

And then another thought intruded upon her. What exactly was she going to read to the man who, if the bookshelves in his study gave a clue to his interests, read everything?

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Finished with his marking, Severus had been studying the girl for some time, watching as she worked a particularly vicious tangle of arithmantic equations every so often rubbing the feather of the quill against her lower lip in thought.

She had no idea as to the charming picture she made or how novel it was for someone to share in his solitude.

The girl was studious and quiet, two traits he unequivocally admired, and she had long since ceased to be a botheration to him in the classroom, having taken the hint sometime around her fifth year when she stopped her incessant hand-waving and contented herself with letting the glory and pangs of his Socratic questions attend to her peers.

However, if he wasn't mistaken, the need to please and garner his approval was still within her, and he would use this to his advantage as well as her love of learning new things. Yes, in this way, he would seek to 'woo' the witch.

Once she had solved her tangled mass of equations and looked to be moving on to another subject, Severus stood, making his way over to her.

"It's time, madam," he interrupted gently.

He saw her start slightly at his proximity, but then pursing her lips, she put down her quill with resignation, he thought wryly, and stood. His wife hesitantly chose a slim volume from the stack of books beside her desk and taking his proffered arm, allowed him to escort her to his sitting room.

He quickly transfigured one of the wingback chairs into a small sofa and bid she sit down.

She did so at the furthest part of the sofa away from him as could be found.

Frowning slightly, Severus sat close beside her, pleased when their sides touched from hip to knee. _No, there will be no avoiding contact with me, my girl_ , he thought, _neither this night nor any of the next five to come_.

Holding out his hand for the slim volume, she handed it to him automatically, and he thumbed through it.

Poetry it was to be then. He could work with that. With a casual air he straightened his legs out in front of him, crossed them at the ankles and began to read aloud, silently observing the surprise on her face when he did so:

 _Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

 _Admit impediments. Love is not love_

 _Which alters when it alteration finds,_

 _Or bends with the remover to remove._

 _O no! it is an ever-fixed mark_

 _That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_

 _It is the star to every wand'ring bark,_

 _Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken…._

Severus well-knew the power of his voice and how to capture and enthrall the attentive listener. He knew how to lure as well as verbally flay. He was honest enough to admit he had more experience with the latter than the former, but he was trying to show a new aspect of his character to her.

As he read, he felt her rigid posture begin to relax slightly against him, and with the utmost care, he moved his arm behind her along the back of the sofa where her head rested, thus making her curve slightly more into his embrace.

At his movement, her posture grew rigid again.

He paused in his reading and looked over at her, saying softly, "Relax, Madam Snape. I have no designs on your person this night."

Drawing a deep breath, she bit her lip and nodded, trying once more to relax.

Patiently, Severus resumed his reading thinking he would try to calm her so she might sleep.

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He really did have a lovely voice.

Hermione listened as he read from her book of sonnets. Other than the first, however, he had not chosen another about love, instead favoring those of history and war.

As he softly droned, she felt herself begin to drift.

It was with a start she realized she had fallen asleep while he read, tucked into his side with her head resting upon his chest.

"It's past time for you to be in bed," he said quietly, shutting the volume.

At that thought, she was suddenly wide-awake and fearful.

"I have told you once already, Hermione, I will not be exacting any form of physical congress between us for the next five nights." Far from being acidic, his tone was gentle as he drew her up and steered them towards his bedroom. "Do you think me a liar?"

She gulped, "I think my position a tenuous one, sir, and although you have proven you are honorable, it still does nothing to alleviate my fears."

He stopped at the door and looked down at her frowning. "Then come, we shall put name to these fears and maybe you will sleep soundly tonight, hmm?"

Tired despite her ragged nerves, Hermione followed where he led, surprised when he sat her on the bed and began removing her shoes for her. "Now, let's hear fear number one," he stated practically.

Once more marveling at the surreal direction her life had taken; her professor was taking off her shoes for Merlin's sake! She stated, "I do not wish to be married, not to you or any man."

His eyes met hers, "That doesn't sound as much a fear as a statement of fact."

"It is," she grit as he began taking off her other shoe.

"Then why is it you fear facts, Madam Snape?" he asked, his hands remaining on her feet as his gaze met hers. "You don't seem to have a problem voicing them."

"I am not fearful of facts, sir, but of consequences." She licked her lips, wondering how much she should tell him. Well, what was the harm? Let him see her state of mind. "I have thought of everything from facing prison in Azkaban, to exiling myself from the wizarding world, to suicide, professor, and I confess the latter holds the most appeal at present."

His eyebrows rose at her candor, but a beat later he stated dryly, "And how, prey, would you accomplish the deed?"

Hermione closed her eyes feeling heartsore. "Dreamless sleep with a valerian and belladonna infusion. Simple enough to brew and in the right dosage, lethal without being painfully so."

He moved until he was sitting on the bed beside her. Far from letting her feet go, however, he held them on his lap, moving his hands to massage her soles and instep. "Fancy yourself a potion's mistress do you then, wife? And how long have you had this plan?"

She laughed mirthlessly, "I've had this plan ever since I was fifteen, professor, when it seemed plausible I could be captured by Death Eaters. There _are_ things worse than death, you know. However, never did I think I would have to revisit these thoughts once the war was over," she ended bitterly.

Shaking her head, she removed her feet from his hands and turned so she lay upon the bed fully clothed save shoes with her back to him.

"I did not take you for a coward, Hermione."

If he thought to appeal to her pride, he was dearly mistaken.

He continued, "It takes bravery to live, to face life unflinching as it's dealt you and demand change."

"Now who sounds like the idealistic Gryffindor?" she couldn't help pointing out.

He snorted, "Touché, witch. Turn around and face me, hmm?"

She shook her head unwilling, and she heard him sigh softly.

"Go to sleep, Madam Snape. I'll wake you in the morning."

With a muffled 'nox', the lights in the room extinguished, and trying hard not to think about the fact that Professor Snape was now sharing the same bed with her, Hermione resolved to do as he suggested and try to rest.

Soon she was fast asleep.

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His bride had a plan.

She wanted to kill herself, and she had a plan.

Severus was disturbed by how easily she could speak of her own death, how simple her plan. He could almost admire the logic if it weren't for the subject matter at hand. _She would rather kill herself than be married to you_ , his thoughts persisted. _She would rather kill herself than raise a parcel of your brats._

A fate worse than death, indeed. Nauseous bile filled the back of his throat. Did she think him a letch? Did she consider their future children to be millstones about her neck, dragging her down, and weighing on her spirit?

Of course she did!

There were options for her.

He would hate to resort to them, but there were other options. But first, he wanted to attempt it this way. Now, how could he make her see, make her understand life with him wouldn't be the hardship she was imagining?

This, he thought, would require patience, kindness, and time.

Patience he had in abundance. If his tenure as a spy for both Dumbledore and Voldemort had taught him anything it was patience. He'd had to patiently wait as the Dark Lord rose to power the second time. He'd had to bide his time and wait for the right moment to reveal his true allegiance and exact his revenge. He'd had to endure onslaught after onslaught of Cruciatus as well as the none-too-gentle intrusion within his mind by both Albus and the Dark Lord, always keeping one step ahead of them both.

And throughout it all, he'd had to be patient.

Never in his wildest imaginings did he think he'd be married, let alone to a girl twenty years his junior. Never had he thought he would have a family to tend, and now, he was going to be a father to not only one but three children. And this thought, once repulsive and terrifying, now held a certain appeal.

Loneliness for him had been critical.

It had been his one redeeming quality as a spy. However, now he was free, and he needn't be lonely any longer. Perhaps this was why he chose to become a bidder in the ministerial marriage mart and vied for her hand? He couldn't stop himself, the hope and promise he felt for her potential too great a lure to let her slip away. He could not stand by to see that potential wasted on one who would not appreciate her gifts and continue to nurture her dreams for her future.

However, first things first. His new wife believed there was only dread in store for her, her future bleak.

And why not?

The future she had hoped for, had planned for, had fought a thrice-damned war for was in ruins due to ministerial meddling.

Severus remembered watching her in the great hall as she received the proclamation of the new marriage law taking effect with her name on the registry for auction to the highest bidder.

He remembered seeing the devastation, the resignation. From that moment, he had resolved to do something to erase that defeated look upon her face and rekindle the spark in her eyes once more.

He thought of the girl he had watched grow up: the over-eager, anxious to please girl who had wanted to wow all and the sundry with her knowledge of this new magical world in which she found herself. That girl who, over the years, gained a measure of poise and a self-reflective quality that became a credit to her disposition. And although she was still eager to please, at least with her other professors, she tempered that quality with confidence and a quiet maturity.

It was heady stuff for one such as he, and Severus knew he would enjoy imparting his knowledge to her over the years to come; that was if she allowed him to do so.

 _She could choose to kill herself_ , his thoughts again suggested. But truly he did not think her capable. She had proved herself brave in battle, consummate muggle-born Gryffindor she was, and she would face this challenge with courage and aplomb.

It would take time, he assured himself.

Urging sleep to overtake him, he felt a large gulf between himself and the girl at his side and wondered how on Earth he was going to bridge that gap. Even as he had the thought, she turned over in her sleep practically into his arms.

Not wasting this opportunity, Severus held her to him, inhaling the notes of citrus and verbena in her hair, and the underlying smell that was hers alone.

As he drifted to sleep, the smallest of smiles graced his face.

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A/N: Credit goes to Shakespeare for the bit of Sonnet 116 I used. Thanks so much for the reviews. It makes me so happy to know others appreciate what I write.


	3. The Lady Prefers the View

Ch. 3— The Lady Prefers the View

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Hermione awoke with arms around her.

She felt safe, comforted, and held fastened to the side of the one that held her.

It was a wonderful dream, a dream too far from reality to possibly be true, and she sought to prolong it as much as possible.

At length though, she heard a silky voice say, "Good morning, Hermione."

Her eyes shot open, and she was staring into the eyes of Professor Snape.

"Good morning… sir," she croaked, blushing from the roots of her hair. Had she been held by him all night?

With a slight squeeze to her sides where he held her, Professor Snape released her and rose from the bed, not commenting on their entwined position. "Would you prefer breakfast here with me or in the great hall before your classes?" he asked.

As she opened her mouth to respond, he held up a staying hand. "Before you answer, you should know I want to talk to you about the plans for the potion we're brewing tonight and perhaps hear your insights regarding ingredients with which we can choose to experiment."

Hermione's mouth opened in shock as she, too, rose from the bed. He was asking for her opinion? She shook her head uncertainly, put off by this uncharacteristic mien of his and began to look for the catch. She finally settled with saying, "I wouldn't know where to begin, sir."

He tsked, "I hardly believe that. After all, I've taught you for five years and know your grasp of the subject of potions is tolerably proficient. You must know the basic ingredients for a healing and restorative draught by now?" He hitched a brow, looking at her expectantly.

"Yes, but… it has to be more complicated than that…" she trailed off.

Her professor shook his head, "Not necessarily, Madam Snape. So what will it be? Breakfast with me where we will continue this discussion or breakfast with your peers in the great hall?"

She stated without hesitation, "Here. I'm curious to know why, if it's as simple as you say, the potion to alleviate the nerve damage caused by Cruciatus hasn't been created yet."

She could have sworn he smiled.

"And here, Madam Snape, is where your tutelage truly begins." So saying, he summoned an elf to fetch them breakfast and telling her to ready herself for the day, left the room.

Hermione hurriedly did as bid, curious as to what he would ask of her. When she came upon the dining nook, she saw he held out her chair, gesturing she should sit at table while they continued their talk.

In her element, Hermione did so, warming to the topic at hand.

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"We start with the obvious, most simple approach and gradually work our way to the more advanced. Here, do you want jam on your toast? No? Very well. Can you tell me which ingredients a tranquil-healing potion and nerve elixir have in common?"

"Let's see… there's tinctured thistlewort," she said in between bites, "lynstra petals, and bur gammon seedpods. Oh!" she reached across the table and touched his arm eagerly, "And rose water as a base." Her eyes shown bright and her spirit was animated.

Severus smiled to himself; this was the first time his wife had reached out to spontaneously touch him which meant he was making some progress. He remarked drolly, "Good catch, madam. Three points to Slytherin."

Her joy at his praise quickly morphed to annoyance. "This isn't going to work, you know, if you keep padding your Slytherin coffers with bogus house points from me."

He smirked and refilled her tea, putting a splash of milk and a dab of sugar as he observed she liked, "Very well. I will give your less-than illustrious former house a chance to redeem itself. For ten points to Gryffindor, former Miss Granger, this potion though inert in its liquid state, is positively volatile once ingested. It is meant for cold, is quite common, and the ingestee will experience relief immediately. What is it?"

She crossed her arms. "I solved a potions riddle of yours my first year, you know?" She gave him a small, knowing grin. "It's Pepper-up potion isn't it?"

Severus nodded, expecting no less. "Ten points to Gryffindor as promised," he said silkily. He didn't think she realized she'd eaten almost all her breakfast by then.

"Now," he wiped his mouth, "are you finished with your meal? Classes begin in twenty-minutes." He watched her eyes widen as she looked down at her plate and then back up at him. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a moue of disappointment in her eyes when she realized how fast time had passed between them.

Feeling elated, he rose and came around to her chair where he leaned down so his mouth was next to her ear. "Tempus Fugit, Madam Snape, which incidentally is the password to disable the wards for our quarters. I will expect to see you after dinner in the potion's classroom at seven-thirty tonight. Do not be late." And moving the heavy fall of her hair from one shoulder to the other, Severus placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before turning in a billow of robes and was gone.

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Hermione drew a shaky breath and felt the spot where he had kissed her cheek, gooseflesh prickling her skin.

She had Defense Against the Dark Arts with him this afternoon, and she wondered if his behavior towards her would change based on the setting.

After all, he had been treating her so differently these last two days. The kind, solicitous man she had breakfasted with completely at odds with what she knew of him, and she was beginning to suspect she had no idea who the real Severus Snape was. Obviously, she needed to look beyond his well-crafted 'Bat of the Dungeons' persona to find out.

Now, the question was: did she want to try?

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Severus watched the door to his classroom with seemingly casual interest, waiting for her to arrive.

This was the first class they had together as man and wife, which was going to make for an interesting dynamic to be certain. He would, of course, be on the lookout for slander from her peers regarding their marriage. The reception, due to his reputation solely, would not be kind, and he would shield her from this as much as possible.

She arrived, her bushy curls barely held in check by the plait she had hurriedly braided this morning. Intentionally, he met her stare, pleased when she blushed slightly, her eyes skittering from his to the floor.

Oh, yes, he was having an effect on her for certain.

Waiting until silence descended upon the class and leaning back against his desk, Severus gave them all a level stare. "We have over the last few weeks gone over theory, and you have listened to me lecture. Many of you in this class have fought in the greatest battle our world has seen in generations; all of you have lost friends and family. The last thing many of you want to do is learn more of how to defend yourself against the dark arts." He saw several heads nod in agreement. "But I am here to tell you it is a necessity for you to do so," he stated implacably. "Although the threat of war is passed, there are those still living who seek to do you harm, and it's for these remaining few you must prepare yourselves.

"Now, I have never allowed you to practice what you've learned before in this classroom, but I believe today is the day for you to test each other and yourselves to find out your strengths and weaknesses. Rise and pair up. We shall practice defense against hexes." Once they were all standing, Severus waved his wand and vanished the desks and chairs leaving a wide, open room in which to practice.

His students eyed him uncertainly.

"I see we're one short. Mr. Weasley you will partner Miss Gartend. Madam Snape, you shall partner me." There were titters across the room, and he saw his wife go pale and panic-stricken at his use of her new name. Her classmates looked between them both, some of their eyes alit with curiosity, others disgust, and still others, mostly of his house, looked on with vicious glee.

Yes, their marriage would have to be formally addressed.

He spoke to the room at large. "As I'm certain you are all aware, Mrs. Hermione Snape nee Granger and I are wed. I will make one thing clear to you: you will treat her with respect. If I hear one disparaging comment directed towards her, you will face me." He gave them all a murderous glare, his eyes daring each of them to try it. "Do I make myself clear?" he asked, his voice razor-sharp.

Unanimous 'yes sir's' and feet shuffling resounded, and he was gratified to see his Slytherins looking chastised.

He nodded, "Wands at the ready, combatants prepare yourselves."

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If there was a rock, Hermione wanted to crawl under it; his words, far from reassuring, only served to isolate her further from her classmates.

Why? Why on Earth had the board of governors agreed to let her remain in his classes?

As far as she could tell, their reasoning had been thus: nepotism did not matter concerning her final GPA. It was not her grades from Hogwarts which ultimately counted but those of her O.W.L's and N.E.W.T.'s. These would, after all, determine what paths her career would take, and since her exams would neither be created nor proctored by her husband, it did not matter if he continued to teach her or not.

The Board looked at her professor cum husband as one would a full-time, live-in tutor, expecting he would help her on her way to earning her degree, but ultimately his interference deemed unimportant in the outcome regarding her career.

It was galling to think people thought she could not get good marks of her own merit. Already, she could feel the condemnation of her classmates, and she couldn't stand to think they thought she was 'sleeping her way to the top' for her grades. Like so much of this sordid business, the idea made her sick.

"Madam, attend your lesson," Professor Snape hissed.

She jumped and looked up to see her professor with his wand drawn at the ready and aimed straight at her.

He wasn't really going to duel with her, was he? Her palms began to sweat.

Drawing her wand, she blinked and that was all the time he gave her before he sent his first hex, a stinging jinx, flying her way. It hit her wand arm, and she gasped, her wand clattering uselessly to the floor.

"Oh, honestly!" she tsk'd, disgusted, bending down to pick up her wand. The small pain on her wrist had been akin to a sharp flick, and she shook off the tingle left by his spell.

With a casual hand wave, Professor Snape sent another jinx her way, this one had her hair coming out of her braid, her curls bouncing every which way.

He smirked at her.

She met his stare, her eyes livid.

"Eyes on me, Madam Snape. Do not take your eyes from your opponent for an instant."

Hermione huffed, tossing hair out of her eyes, and with her wand drawn at the ready, she came to stand in front of him, not taking her eyes from him _for an instant_.

She said quietly, "For what you said to the class, I can take care of myself, you know? I don't need you to fight my battles for me." In the next moment, she threw a Tarantallegra hex his way, hoping to catch him off guard and send him dancing.

With a casual flick of his wand, the hex glanced harmlessly off the shield he cast to fizzle on the floor at their feet.

He tsk'd, "You're going to have to do better than that," and then he said for her ears only, "But of course, madam, you are independence personified."

With a flick of his wrist, he pushed her back three paces until she was pressed against the classroom wall, her hands flinging up around her head in a gesture of forced surrender.

His eyes gleamed with mischief.

She cursed softly under her breath, immediately performing the counterjinx to release herself. And no longer feeling in any way reserved or charitable towards him, Hermione shoved off from the wall, her hair trailing like a banner behind her as she once more stood to face him.

Everyone stopped to stare as the hexes started flying.

He was parrying her efforts without even trying, the bastard, looking for all the world like he was bored.

Hermione, meanwhile, shielded as best she could, but he was fast, faster than any opponent she'd ever faced, and it wasn't long before sweat started to dot her brow.

This went on for some time, with her only just managing to not get trapped by a leg-locking curse, a tentaculous jinx, or gods thrice be damned, a bat bogey curse.

Honestly, the man had no scruples!

Finally, she got angry, and with a roar heaved a Langlock curse crashing towards him.

She watched in satisfaction as he was caught off guard by the intensity of her spell; the hex she sent piercing his shield as his eyes went wide and his tongue became glued to the roof of his mouth.

She looked at him triumphant, trying hard not to grin.

He pointed his wand at himself and silently performed the counter jinx, working his jaw and tongue to dispel the aftereffects of her curse. His eyes found hers, but far from being upset with her, she found something akin to respect shining there.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Alright," he said to the room at large, "back to work all of you. Madam Snape, you will practice your disarming hex. It was weak when it hit my shield, and I was able to deflect it easily. Your Langlock curse, however, has earned you house points."

She shot him a withering look. He wouldn't dare!

His eyes alit with merry glee. "Ten points to Slytherin."

Bastard.

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"Hermione, wait up!" Ron called from the doorway.

She halted, steeling herself for the conversation about to take place. Ron and she hadn't talked since the day before her marriage, and she was loathed to do so now. She moved to the side of the corridor out of the way of the others' hearing and turned to face him, her anxiety plain to see.

Ron had been the first to ask her to marry him, having petitioned the Ministry on her behalf, begging for the two of them to be married, vowing he would pay the Ministry in installments dutifully every month once he left school so Hermione's bride-price, a bid he'd made higher than any other offered for her, could be paid.

The Ministry, preferring a bird in the hand to one in the bush, denied his petition, and the very next day Hermione had been ushered to the altar, her hopes of being married to her best friend left living ripped to shreds.

"You've been avoiding me," he accused, but there was no malice in it.

"I haven't. I've been busy…" _acquainting myself to married life as Professor Snape's wife_ went the unspoken words between them.

He gulped and looked down at her stomach and then back up to her, "Did he…are you…?" his ears turned beet red, and he looked nauseous.

She blushed and shook her head, "Not yet." _but soon_ , she thought.

He looked relieved. "If—if the marriage hasn't been, well… if he hasn't, oh bloody hell!" he ruffled his hair, his face growing redder by the second, "If he hasn't _tupped_ you yet, we could always run away, Hermione. Azkaban and dementors be damned! We would go as far and as fast as we could, perhaps Romania to be with Charlie. We could find somewhere unplottable where no locator spell would be able to track," he ended weakly, not even believing the words he said.

 _If wishes were thestrals, beggars would ride,_ Hermione thought sadly, watching the hopeful desperation play out across Ron's face.

His heart on his sleeve, Ron looked at her longingly and softly stated, "And even if he has done…well, _it_ , and you're not pregnant… Hell!" He ruffled his hair. "Even if you are, we could go. You say the word, and we'll go." He gestured to the world beyond the castle walls.

"As charming as the offer is, Mr. Weasley, my wife will have to respectfully decline."

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as she turned to face her husband; her husband who only had eyes for her best friend.

And oh, if looks could kill…

Ron gulped and took a step back, "I—"

"You what, Mr. Weasley?" Professor Snape asked, taking a menacing step forward. "You think to deprive me my wife and my future children? You think to steal her away?" Professor Snape looked Ron up and down assessing, and it was obvious he found Ron wanting. "Mr. Weasley, you have never seen the wrath of which I'm capable and the lengths I'll go to protect what's mine."

"What's _yours_?" Hermione ground, her jaw clenched, gaining his attention.

"Yes, what's mine, witch," he grit, his eyes burning into hers. "Make no mistake, you are mine, and there is nothing or no one, including yourself, that will stand in the way of that. Do you understand, Madam Snape?" he asked implacably.

Her throat working, Hermione nodded her head, a single tear falling before she could stop it. "Y-yes," she whispered, emotion clogging her voice, "I understand." Turning, she shoved past them both, wishing like hell to be anywhere, anyone else.

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Severus cursed himself soundly as he watched her go, her hurried footfalls echoing down the stone corridor. He turned to face the younger man, murder in his eyes. "It is you who have upset her, boy," he accused acidly.

The foolish Gryffindor Ronald Weasley was raised his jaw and met Severus toe-to-toe with his chest puffed out and straining. "No. I only offered her an escape from her Death Eater husband who is old enough to be her father and only wants to fuck her and get her pregnant with his bastard spawn."

Severus had his wand drawn on his student before he was consciously aware; his hand shaking with restraint.

To his credit, the boy didn't so much as flinch, his eyes daring Severus to do his worst.

Drawing a deep breath, the potions master took a step back, putting his wand away and taking a moment to compose himself.

At length, he met the boy's stare and stated lowly, "Mr. Weasley, you should know I do not 'tup', and I have never, as you so crudely put it, 'fucked'." He let the ugly word stand between them, watching as the boy gulped, the realization dawning a moment too late he had gone too far.

Severus continued, "Of all the words you spoke, the phrase 'Death Eater' should feature the most prominent in your thoughts. I have forgotten more than you'll ever know, boy, about magic and the Dark Arts, and I promise you, I will make you suffer until your last breath if you ever suggest she leave me again. No one, and I do mean no one, will be able to find your corpse. Do we understand one another?"

His eyes wide, his face blanched of color, the younger man nodded jerkily.

"You're dismissed," Severus grit and watched, gratified, as the whelp scurried on.

Severus let him get as far as the end of the hallway before calling out, "Oh, and Mr. Weasley, consider your education in Defense and Potions at an end. You are, as of this moment, failing both, and since these are N.E.W.T. level classes, and are therefore optional, I see no need for you to continue."

The boy stopped in his tracks and turned to face him, his mouth agape.

Severus nodded. _Yes, young pup. See what you make of that._

In a billow of robes, Severus turned and stormed off.

Before lunch was over and his second block of classes begun, he needed to find his wife, and he knew it was going to be hell rebuilding their rapport.

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Hermione fled the castle feeling the hounds of hell were chasing her, and perhaps they were.

The late November rain was shockingly cold as it ran down the collar of her school robes, and she did nothing, absolutely nothing to shield herself from it. Going as far as she dared to the lake, but nowhere near far enough, she yelled, screaming to the heavens.

Her life was not supposed to be this way. She was not supposed to be _owned_. The words 'property', 'chattel', and her professor's pronouncement of 'mine' resounded over and over in her thoughts.

And she was now, for all intents and purposes, _his_. Bought, wedded to, and property of one Severus Tobias Snape.

Her knees buckling, Hermione fell to the grass crying as hard as she could, letting the pain, the anger, the grief well within her.

The heavens cried with her as a drizzle became a downpour, plastering her robes against her skin, and mingling raindrops with her tears.

On she cried, her hiccoughing sobs becoming gasps as grief ran its course. A few minutes, an hour? She didn't know how long she cried and screamed and moaned, but all she knew was she couldn't stop. All her hopes, all her plans, her future now having to include an implacable husband and three unwanted children.

She didn't know where she would find the strength to see this through, and not having that confidence, that faith, and courage to sustain herself hurt more than any curse ever could. She was supposed to be brave; she was not a coward! But this—this learning how to tolerate an intolerable situation. Grappling with her fate and trying to come to grips with it. This had changed her irrevocably.

However, slowly the rain began to ease, and her grief did as well, for no one could cry forever, and as the rain gentled to a soft drizzle once more, her tears did so as well, leaving her feeling wrung out, left useless and spent as she lay on the cold, unforgiving ground curled in on herself as she was.

It was at that moment a soft voice spoke beside her, "I think, Hermione, you will be excused from your classes for the rest of the day."

Startled, she looked up and straight into the eyes of her professor—her husband—and saw he was as wet and cold as she, his hair just as plastered to his head, his robes a sodden mess as he sat beside her with a look of concern etched upon his face.

She gulped, and with a staggered breath, drew herself up to a seated position.

It was obvious he had been sitting there for a while, keeping silent vigil while she cried, and he had not cast a warming or impervious charm on himself.

The thought comforted her.

She swiped at her eyes, and took another deep, staggered breath, trying to not let embarrassment get the better of her. "You must think me so f-foolish to be out here like this."

He shook his head. "Do not presume, Madam Snape, to think you know my thoughts." His eyes burned into hers. "Perhaps one day I shall tell you what I think of you, but suffice it to say, at this moment you are the furthest thing from foolish in my eyes."

Feeling slightly buoyed by his words, she nodded, trying to gather her composure in front of this man. The Marriage Law wasn't his fault, and honestly, things for her could be worse. She could be married to a man who didn't want her to complete her education and who would have taken her innocence, and violently so, upon their wedding night. Yes, things could always be worse.

At the thought, she began to shiver.

The moment she did so, Professor Snape cast a strong warming charm upon her as well as a charm to make her impervious to rain. Though she was still damp, Hermione felt the soft heat of his magic wrapping around her, warming her from the inside.

"Would you like to return to the castle?" he inquired softly, "I know a passageway that will take us straight to our quarters from here, and you can have a lie down."

Hermione looked up at the leaden sky and then back down to the rain-soaked man at her side, and she gave a watery, wobbly grin, "You know it's beautiful weather in Scotland this time of year." She sniffed and turned up her nose, saying stuffily, "how anyone would want to go inside on a day like today, I will never understand."

He smirked, "Very well, wife. So be it. We shall stay out here and catch our deaths of cold, and all because the lady likes the view."

Hermione cast a warming charm on him and scooted closer so he could share in her impervious-to-rain bubble.

"The lady is… thankful you're here with her, sir…" she gestured and swallowed, "After all, in my wildest dreams, I never would have pictured sitting by the Enchanted Lake in a November downpour with Severus Snape, master of potions, keeping quiet vigil while I cried my eyes out."

"There are more things in heaven and Earth…" he quoted softly.

"Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," she finished quietly.

"You can consider this," he indicated the sky and the lake, "our first date if you like."

She shook her head, now feeling leagues better having purged, "You, sir, certainly know how to show a lady a good time. Ah, gods, I have to get up; my legs are going all pins and needles." Rising, she gained her feet and reaching down, indicated he should grasp her hands, so she could pull him up.

A brief flicker of surprise flashed across his face, and then his hands were in hers.

With a sharp tug from her, he stood and was towering over her once more.

He was hesitant, however, to relinquish hold of her hands. "Do you think once we're dry, and have both taken pre-emptive doses of Pepper-up, you can complete your classes for the day?"

She nodded.

"Good girl," he said, drawing her hands up to his lips. He kissed first one then the other, his lips feeling warm and soft on her rain-chilled skin.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Now come, madam wife," he threaded her arm through his and began escorting them to his hidden passage, "lunch is almost over, and I refuse to drip my way through the castle to my classroom."

"Oh yes," she teased gently, "I fear your dungeon bat persona would be entirely ruined once your students heard the squilch-squelch of your dragon-hide boots and saw your robes slog across the floor."

He drew her up short and looked down at her, incredulous. "Dungeon bat? Is that what the little blighter's call me?" He looked genuinely shocked.

She did a double-take, "Well, errm… ahem, yes, it is. You mean you didn't know that was your moniker?" she ended on a squeak, feeling instantly wrong-footed.

His expression was thunderous as he looked down at her.

She explained, "It's the robes, you see… you billow when you walk, and well…" she trailed off realizing she was digging herself a hole, and she needed to put down the shovel.

It was then he smirked, and she knew she'd been had. "I assure you, Hermione, 'Black Bat of the Dungeons' is my nicest epithet to date."

"What's the worst?" she asked before she thought better of it, and then bit her lip, wanting to call the question back when she saw his expression immediately close off.

"Not suitable for my lady's hearing, I'm afraid." He held the door to their rooms open for her, and bid she enter before him. "By my calculation, we have just enough time for you to change clothes and have you 'floo' to your Charms lesson."

She nodded, and as she turned to go to the bedroom, she felt his magic sweep over her as a drying charm was aimed at her hair.

"Oh, no!" she said dismayed and dove for the bathroom.

She heard him follow her. "Oh, no what, wife?" he asked concernedly.

"You used a drying charm on my hair!" she accused, looking at her snarled and tangled mass of bushy curls in the mirror. She lifted one lock of rat's nest as evidence. "Oh, it's a mess!"

He stepped behind her, his hands falling to her waist as he assessed the situation and then declared, "I see no difference. It's beautiful, witch. Leave it. We must go!"

Sighing, and wishing she had a headscarf, Hermione took herself and her dreadlocks off to quickly change clothes in the bedroom while Professor Snape performed a series of astringent drying charms on himself. She rushed out of the room once she was finished dressing and downing the promised vile of 'Pepper-up' potion he handed her, she hurriedly picked up a handful of floo powder and stepped towards the grate.

She was, therefore, caught off guard when he stopped her forward momentum, literally sweeping her off her feet and tilted her chin up with one long-fingered hand. As she looked on wide-eyed, his mouth descended, and he dusted the most feather-light of kisses across her lips.

His eyes met hers. "I'll see you in the Potions classroom after dinner at seven thirty. Enjoy class." So saying, he released her and gently pushed her towards the grate.

Her body now trembling and her eyes bright, she chirruped, "Charm's Classroom" and with a whirl, she was gone.

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Severus watched her go with a measure of relief mixed with calm joy. Far from being something that estranged them, the events of the day had seemed to draw them together.

He had come upon her the fifth place he looked, and not wanting to intrude upon her grief, for it was obvious he would do more harm than good if he did so, he chose instead to sit with her while she cried, a testament to her tears.

His young wife was so incredibly strong; he knew it would surprise her how much he held her in his esteem. And gods, he knew this wasn't the life she would have chosen for herself! And too, as he listened to her heartache and grief, his heart ached and grieved as well.

However, he couldn't change what was. In every possible respect, she was his to do with as he willed.

But he had vowed to be hers as well.

The vows he made on his wedding day ensured it, though she did not know, could not yet know, the depths of his devotion to her. Severus resolved to show her every day in every way how much, and maybe one day she would realize the depth of his feelings.

He watched for her throughout the day, catching a glimpse of her in the halls, going out of his way to peak into the ancient runes classroom to see if she was alright, and finding relief this was so for she was intent on her work.

He lauded her focus, her precision, and resiliency.

And since she seemed to have come through this ordeal unsinged, through the rest of his day, Severus anticipated the night to come, deciding to go through with his plan. Once more assessing her disposition as she joined her peers in the great hall, and seeing her smile and engage with them, Severus hurriedly finished his dinner and made his way to the dungeons.

His thoughts were now firmly fixed on how best to gently awaken his wife to pleasure's embrace.

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"How much homework do you have, madam?" Professor Snape asked as Hermione dropped her bags on her customary potion's bench and made her way to him.

"I have to finish my essay for Defense as well as practice 'Integra' for Charms. I'm behind in Transfiguration. I was supposed to go the library during lunch to complete my revision for tomorrow's lesson, but well…" she gestured helplessly between them indicating the events of this afternoon. "And I've yet to begin your potions essay as well as complete an arithmancy equation that has me stymied." As she listed them off, she felt panic swell within her. With all that had occurred these last few days, she was finding it hard to focus on schoolwork, and with the rigorous pace she set herself, it was easy to fall behind.

Professor Snape was looking at her assessing and seemed to realize her panicked state. "I will not let you fail in any way," he said for certain. "There will be plenty of time for you to do what's necessary for your schoolwork in the days to come. As it is, I've notified your professors for the first two weeks of our married life, you are to be given leniency regarding the deadlines for your assignments, and this, of course, pertains to Potions and Defense."

Giving her a pointed glare, he continued, "And a word of caution, Madam Snape, I no longer will tolerate five feet of parchment for every essay I assign. If you cannot concisely state your stance in two and one-half feet with normal margins and font, I will refuse to mark your work."

Hermione looked at him, her mouth agape.

"Close your mouth, girl, you look like a carp. Now, come over here and mince the lystra petals and bur gammon to paste. We are trying a derivative of the nerve elixir tonight."

Silently doing as bid, and thinking how in the world she was going to put all she wanted to say on a topic in two and a half feet, she turned to get the ingredients out of his stores and saw the cage sitting in the corner. A thought occurred to her, and she looked up. "Errm, professor… how are we going to test the potion to see if it will work?"

"Crucio'd mice," he answered simply, not looking up from his stirring.

"Oh, but—" she bit her lip and looked at the cage where several white mice were gathered.

He continued dispassionately, "Scientific advancement is not for the squeamish, Hermione. These mice will sacrifice themselves," he gestured to the cage in the corner, "so wizardkind might experience relief from curse damage."

She swallowed, "It's just… I hate to think of any creature experiencing pain."

He quirked an ironic grin, "Yet you eat meat, do you not? The argument's one and the same only you're now closer to the process of it."

"Yes, but," she grumbled, adding the paste to the brew and watching the green sludge turn to cerulean flecked with gold, "the meat I eat isn't tortured before being put to death."

"And that's where your incorrect. We shan't be putting these mice to death. They will be… uncomfortable, some of them intolerably so."

"Oh, and that makes it so much better! Professor, they'll suffer!" she all but stomped her foot.

He finally looked at her. "And therein lies hope for a cure should a potion of ours succeed, and the mice experience relief. Now add the powdered bicorn next, stirring clockwise seven times, and leave the potion alone for now. I want to show you how to decant a vickleberry."

Having never heard of this ingredient before, she did as bid and followed him, at once intrigued. Hermione watched as he took a bowl of plump but leathery-looking fruit from the top shelf of his stores and placed it on the bench, gesturing for her to stand before him.

He began to lecture, "This is a vickleberry. You cannot ingest it in its fruit form, and neither would you want to. Though the smell is pleasant, the taste is… undesirable. It's rare and can only be fleshed out by the wilde-warthog in the Sahara much as wild boar are wont to do with truffles here. Its properties promote nerve regeneration and healing, but it is difficult to work with due to its numerous and varied interactions with the most common of potions ingredients."

Not realizing how close he'd come behind her as he lectured, she jumped when he placed his hands at either side of the bench where she stood hemming her in.

Her heart began to beat faster.

Gently brushing her fall of hair to the side, he stated lowly, "There are those who refuse to work with this ingredient, not considering the payoff to be worth the time invested, to say nothing of its volatile nature, rarity, and expense. However, like with much in life, Hermione, the vickleberry requires patience, care, and time. Now, select a berry from the bowl and place it on the block for us."

Hermione gulped and did as he said, feeling his warm breath tickle her ear.

He leaned closer, his hands moving to her span her waist. "You see, each berry is full of juice, but for the inattentive hand, it will yield nothing. You cannot slice into it; the hard exterior prevents it. You cannot force it; the fibers will not relax and will refuse to release their liquid. However, if you adjust the flat end of your blade down upon the berry, like so," he positioned their hands atop the blunt side of the knife, "and with a little pressure and a soft rocking motion, gently but insistently use your palm to press it," He nuzzled her ear, "then the berry will yield to your touch. And there, do you see how much liquid is produced?"

Her breath hitched as she watched a golden cascade of juice spill out to be caught in the basin below.

"Each berry requires a slow and patient touch," he whispered, "and I take my time, taking pride in my work." He kissed the sensitive flesh below her ear. She moaned softly. "Now, I am going to turn you around to face me, wife, because I want to kiss you properly. Will you allow me this?"

Her heart fluttering and her knees weak, Hermione nodded, turning in his arms.

His eyes met hers, and he placed his hand along the column of her neck, tilting her chin. Bending, he pressed his lips to hers providing a gentle pressure, and her eyes closed to better feel it. "Open for me, wife," he intoned softly, and Hermione did so, her arms moving to embrace him as his mouth performed a tender intrusion.

Never had she been kissed like this, and with such exquisite care.

He deepened the kiss further, playing gently with her tongue, bidding she play with him in return. Shyly, she mimicked his movements, growing bolder when he sighed his approval.

She felt lightheaded and ached for more. However, he gentled their kiss, giving her a final lingering caress before he ended it.

Drawing a shaky breath and opening her eyes, Hermione met his frank stare, seeing a tender expression upon his face she had never seen before.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and taking one of her hands and brought it to his lips. "Thank you for the kiss, Madam Snape."

Gulping, and not having any words at the moment for how she felt, she nodded, her mind forming one thought: Criminy Jickets, that was intense!

He gestured to the basin, "Once the juice from the berry has had time to diffuse and is made into a concentrate, it will be added to the potion. And then the potion will need to steep for two days." His eyes met hers knowingly, and his expression caused her to blush. "We will revisit this then, hmm?"

Her body thrumming, Hermione bit her kiss-swollen bottom lip and nodded once more, feeling foolish and chiding herself for her still speechless state.

Her husband gave her a knowing, self-satisfied look, but he didn't make a remark on her shyness for which she was thankful. Instead, he said, "Very well. It's time for your homework and my marking, and then we'll make an early night of it for you've had an eventful day."

So saying, he wandlessly transferred the juice from the basin to a glass beaker to begin the distillation process, and with heat applied, she watched the golden fluid turn a vivid shade of red. Going back and stirring the potion thrice, he performed a stasis spell, and with a gesture of his wand, the scrolls of parchment on his desk gathered together.

Taking her bag as well, Professor Snape indicated she should precede him to the study, and once seated at her desk, Hermione grabbed for a subject at random.

She tried to lose herself in her work, but could not… her mind was too distracted, her body too aware. Several times, she caught herself staring at him, averting her eyes when he looked up and met her gaze in return. Yet, each time his eyes found hers, they were filled with something she could not name.

At length he said, "Are you finding it hard to concentrate, Madam?"

Hermione blushed but stated boldly, "I am, and I think you know why."

"It doesn't hurt for you to voice it," her smirked.

She rolled her eyes and smiling, shook her head, "I'm not here to flatter your ego."

"No, you're not," he gave her a measured look, "You are here for a very specific purpose, wife, and as your husband, I am looking forward to imparting you with the knowledge as to what your purpose shall be. In time, I hope you look forward to what we do together with a desire equal my own." His eyes flashed again with that unnamable something, and Hermione suddenly recognized it for what it was: hunger. He was hungry… for her.

He blinked, it was gone, and she watched as he returned to his grading once more leaving her breathless.

Oh, holy blistering hell! For once her homework could go hang; she had more pressing concerns including trying to still the racing of her heart.

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Severus once again held her to him as she slept, her breath tickling his ear. This time she allowed it when he reached for her, holding her to him with only a little reserve on her part. Things were coming along nicely, and he knew if this day was an indicator of her receptivity to his advances, then by the end of the week, the marriage rite they must perform together would be no hardship at all.

His jaw hardened as he thought about the events of the day. The Weasley whelp would bear watching.

Severus had threatened the younger man, but he could see the pup wasn't ready to cede the field just yet.

Ronald Weasley loved her.

Severus didn't think she was aware; she thought he only wanted friendship with her. However, Severus knew the signs of a love-lorn pup. As surrounded as he was by hormonal adolescents, how could he not? Yes, the pup's behavior would need to be watched, but Severus would have to play this very fine.

Hermione had lost enough friends as it was, and to isolate her further from this, her closest one remaining, would be to court disaster. Severus might even push her into the arms of the pup if he pressed too much, and the anxiety produced in his body at the thought of the girl leaving him had her moaning in her sleep and turning away.

Drawing a deep breath, he occluded such thoughts and drew her into his arms again, this time spoon-fashion. Yes, today he had also been proven correct in his assessment that the key to her happiness was found in learning something new, and Severus Snape, when he wanted to be, was a damn fine teacher.

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A/N: I love sharing my writing with you guys! Thanks so much for your favorites and your follows and your lurks and your reviews! Especially those reviews! Keep 'em comin'. :0)

Another update soon,

-k


	4. Of Records, Virtues, and the Ballet

Ch. 4— Of Records, Virtues, and the Ballet

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"Good morning, madam wife."

Hermione smiled at the low growl in her ear that made chill bumps raise on the back of her neck.

"Good morning… husband," she said softly, and heard his sharp breath. This was the first time she called him that, and it had obviously had an effect on him.

A beat later he gruffed, "Are you ready to face the day?"

"Only if you make me." Hermione burrowed further into his embrace, covering her head with a pillow.

Feeling his hands move to her sides, her professor was almost but not quite tickling her. "And what happened to that girl who was always up and in the breakfast hall before dawn, that determined girl driven to succeed, hmm?"

"It's Saturday, and I'm not a morning person, Snape," she groused.

"That's _Professor Snape_ to you, wife," he corrected.

She snorted and peeking one gimlet eye up at him said, "Really? You want to keep this so formal between us?"

"I never want you to forget your place, madam wife. During the day, I am your instructor. Here in our chambers, and if you feel comfortable, you may call me 'husband' or 'Severus'.

"And at night…" she led, giving a small grin to the pillow.

"I am your instructor of a different sort."

His serious words set her laughing, and blushing, she turned to face him. "And when I graduate, be it from Hogwarts or… ahem 'night school'? What should I call you then?"

He looked down at her wryly, "Then you may call me as you please be it 'husband', by my given name, or as you so put it 'Snape'." His eyes met hers, and desire flashed in their depths, "or if you want to keep learning from me… 'professor'."

She quirked an impish grin, boldly stating, "It sounds a bit kinky… _professor_." She bit her lip, not knowing if he would meet her boldness with frankness of his own.

He moved them so he was looking down at her, his hair swinging forward to brush her cheek. "Such wicked bluntness in one who can be so painfully shy at times. It's a heady combination, witch. As to our present dynamic, I see no need in changing the substance upon which our relationship was founded, even years from now, Hermione. You will learn from me, and I will happily teach you. And in doing so, I will learn from you as well."

She shook her head, mystified. "What could you possibly learn from me?"

He gave an enigmatic smile. "Oh, trust me wife, every day with you I learn a lesson, and unbeknownst to you, you are a fine teacher." So saying, he rose from the bed, and reaching for her arms, drew her up as well. "Now, dress casually for the day. I have plans for us."

Hermione did as bid, deciding to wear jeans, her nicest jumper, and her black leather boots. She didn't know what constituted weekend wear for Professor Snape, having never really noticed before. Truth be told, before their marriage, she half-way believed he lived in his billowing robes. But that was far from the truth, especially when she opened the door to their bedroom and saw he was wearing black jeans, a black jumper, and underneath a white button-down shirt. He still wore his dragonhide boots, but the more casual outfit lent him an academic air without appearing his normal staid and buttoned-up self.

"Would you like to dine with me or with your friends in the great hall? Instead of my plans, I will give you time to reconnect with those closest you if that's what you wish today?" Even as she watched, he donned a muggle coat and grabbed his scarf.

Hermione was touched by his thoughtfulness, but she was too curious about his plans for them to think about taking him up on the offer. "Perhaps I can meet with them another time?" she asked.

He bowed his head, "Of course. Now, would you like to know what we'll be doing?"

Smiling, she said, "Absolutely."

"We are going shopping in Knockturn Alley for some more… unusual ingredients to fill my potions stores, but first, we will go to muggle London where a surprise awaits."

She looked at him wryly, "A surprise? Is it a good surprise? Will I enjoy it? Or is it drudgery?"

"Such cynicism," he tsk'd approvingly.

"Only because you've taught me for seven years." She stuck out her tongue.

"Watch it, brat. For your disrespect, I might just bite off that tongue of yours."

Hermione had to bite back the words, _I wish you would_. Now, where had that thought come from?

"Well, ahem… how will we be traveling?"

"By portkey." He reached to the side table, and grabbing a statuary of a serpent, tapped 'portus' with his wand and bid she touch it. Hermione had used portkeys only rarely, and it had the unfortunate side effect of making her nauseous, but not wanting to be a bother, she said nothing and touched the thing.

The tug at her naval sent bile rising to her throat, but she choked it back, stumbling once they reached their destination. She would have fallen if not for steadying arms bracing her, "Easy. Easy," he said as she tried to gain her bearings.

After he let her catch her breath, he tilted her chin back, "Your skin is clammy, your pallor green. Traveling by portkey makes you ill does it not? Why didn't you say something, you silly girl?"

She breathed in through her nose, trying to settle her roiling stomach. "I didn't want to be a pest."

He frowned down at her. "Having you vomit on my boots with sick as you've almost done, would've been the behavior of a pest. You've got to be honest with me in all things, madam wife. If something we do bothers you, then you must tell me so I may learn and will not suggest the experience a second time."

Drawing another cleansing breath, she nodded, "Alright. Then you should know I get motion-sick. I hate to travel by broomstick and flying on a thestral is positively terrifying."

"And apparition?" he asked doubtfully, taking her arm and leading her towards the street.

"Is good for short distances but requires a bit of a lie down if I have to do it too long or too often."

He nodded. "Very well, it's the Hogwarts Express for us later tonight. Now, I was going to take us to luncheon, but I think some hot tea would be better for you right now. We'll attempt to eat in an hour or so."

So saying, he bought them both steaming cups of tea from a street vendor, doctoring hers exactly as he had observed she liked it, and then with her firmly tucked to his side, wove their way through the crowded city streets of the West End.

Hermione marveled he seemed as comfortable in Muggle London as he did the Wizarding World and thought to ask him about it when next they stopped. They ducked into a record store, and she looked at him curiously.

"Music soothes the soul, or so I'm told," he said lowly to her, gesturing she browse with him through the racks.

"If music be the food of love, play on," she countered, quoting Shakespeare, her smile bright.

"Music produces a kind of pleasure which human nature cannot do without," he said quoting Confucius, his eyes glinted at her dangerously.

"Where words fail, music speaks," she countered with a quote from Hans Christian Anderson as she crossed her arms. She could do this all day.

"Music is the movement of sound to reach the soul for the education of its virtue," he lectured, quoting Plato. "Now come, I wish to impart another lesson." Her breath hitched, and she blushed, remembering the last lesson in the Potions classroom he had given her.

He gave her a knowing smile. "Why madam, whatever do you think I mean?"

She drew breath to answer, but thought better of it, shaking her head.

He ushered her in. "Come. I want you to pick out some records we can listen to in the castle. I will as well, and in this way, we will learn each others' musical tastes."

As they began thumbing through the stacks, she decided to ask her questions. "Why muggle music, sir? For that matter, why muggle London? And how are you seemingly so at home here?"

"That's simple. I'm half-blooded," he said not looking up from his perusal of the stacks.

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. "Really?"

"Yes. How do you like Van Morrison, madam?" he purred, showing her the album.

Well, she could take a hint… if that was apparently all she was going to learn of his past. She shrugged. "I wouldn't know. He's _way_ before my time, Professor."

He snorted, "Yes. You are a young thing, aren't you? Well, this is yet another aspect of your education I will happily impart. Now go, pick out some music for us. Go on." He shoo'd her away, and Hermione grinned.

Who knew he would be so… affable? Even if he didn't want to discuss his past.

Well, maybe someday…

Deciding to go with music she enjoyed, which is exactly as he said do, rather than music she thought would please him, she went with the muggle music of her generation, having never taken a liking to Wizarding music in general, Celestina Warbeck in particular.

There was Celine Dion, Madonna, Rod Stewart, Aerosmith, 10,000 Maniacs, Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Heart, The Artist formally known as Prince, Michael Jackson, Bryan Adams, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Richard Marx...

She bit her lip; her choices vast.

Finally deciding on three, she made her way back over to him to see his stack had grown substantially.

"Is that all you could find?" he asked incredulous, looking at her three selections.

"Well, no, but…"

"But nothing, madam. Go, get what you need," he shoo'd her off once more.

Not want. _Need_. As in music being necessary.

Essential.

She heard, "Remember madam wife, music be the food of love, and I do not want you starving while you're with me."

Grinning like a loon at his words as well as his thoughtfulness, she returned to the stacks and made good on his word, making a pile to rival his own.

At the end of their transaction, the records seller had a smile a mile wide on his face, and her husband had an entire wooden crate filled with their selections.

She was surprised when she had seen they'd had some of the same albums in common, including some stuff she liked that her parents had listened to. Though there was much of it he bought of which she was unfamiliar.

Watching as he shrunk down the crate and pocketed it once they exited the shop, her husband asked, "Now, do you think you can stomach some lunch?"

Eagerly, and still with that silly grin on her face, she nodded, and together with her arm tucked securely in his, they strolled down the street. Hermione window shopped, and occasionally, she pointed out muggle machinery to him explaining what it did to mimic magic's use **.**

On one such occurrence, they, in fact, had a rousing conversation in which she declared, "It's true. One day, probably not in my lifetime but sooner than one might think, muggles will be able to outlive wizards due to technological advancement." She leaned in close to whisper to him, "They might even be able to attain immortality."

"Surely not, madam wife!" he declared.

"Surely so, husband," she countered and pointed at a display of computers in a shopfront. They made to go into the shop, but as soon as they stepped foot inside, the machinery around them started to blip and blur; the one nearest them in fact starting to smoke.

Hermione grinned, apologized to the shopkeep, and the two of them left, Hermione advising, "That proves my point right there. Magic is intrinsic, but technology will advance. Magical practitioners will be unable to take advantage of technological advancement, which will, in the end be our downfall. Meanwhile, should the human race continue on—which is statistically unlikely— those able to take advantage of such things will possibly never die. You know, I could recommend a few science fiction novels as well as work by Stephen Hawking and Carl Sagan if you're interested?"

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"Very much so, witch," Severus murmured, watching the way her eyes shone when she spoke of a subject for which she was passionate. The weak winter sunshine was no match for her inner light, and Severus soaked it up.

"By the way, I wanted to tell you I liked my surprise very much!" she stated once they were seated in the muggle restaurant he had chosen. The menus were in French, and although he imagined she knew some, he was prepared to order for them both. That was until she advised the maître d she wanted the squab with _pommes frites_ in perfectly accented French.

"French fries, madam?" Severus asked skeptically once the man had gone.

She nodded, "They are cooked in truffle butter with garlic herb seasoning, and c'mon! How could I say 'no' to that?"

Severus muttered, "Easily, one would think."

"Oh, you! You'll try one, and we'll see what you think."

Severus crossed his arms, enjoying her gentle ribbing. "Oh, and you're going to force-feed me, are you, tough, little lioness you are?"

She shook her head, "No, but I would ask you to please—pretty please—try one." She looked at him with pleading, mooncalf eyes, and he knew he could not resist.

Shaking his head, Severus groused, "The things I am willing to do…" _for you_ , he did not say. Although, he did not think she understood just yet the implied words or how much power she could exert over him should she wish it.

Although any Slytherin worth her salt would've heard it, and taken advantage of it but not his Gryffindor.

No, she wouldn't.

"And what makes you think that was the surprise?" he stated enigmatically referring to her earlier comment.

Her brow furrowed, "Oh, but… it was so thoughtful and generous of you, sir. All that music… It was a lovely gift and…"

"As I said in the shop, it was necessary," he interrupted gently. "Many muggleborns feel they must choose one world or the other in which to dwell. I want to ensure for you this is not the case."

His words sent a beautiful blush radiating from her, and his wife's eyes shown at him once more. God's, she was breathtaking!

He cleared his throat. "Now, will you tell me something of this muggle upbringing of yours, madam wife?"

It was a bittersweet smile that graced her face as she said, "My mother and father were the best of people living on this Earth, and despite my being in school three-fourths of the year, up until they died, we remained a very tight-knit family."

"Yes, I remember the news of their passing. I am sorry," Severus stated, watching the play of emotions grace her features, grief the most prevalent.

She gave a sad smile, "Yes, it was unfortunate. Just bad timing and poor weather on the roads. They… well, I'm told it was quick and for that I'm thankful." She swallowed, "That being said, my summers were spent at their dental practice where I served as their receptionist, and on the weekends, my parents and I would take trips to visit art museums, fairs, botanical gardens, anywhere that caught our fancy, really. And as I grew older, they began taking me to symposiums and debates. You see, they wanted me to be very conscientious and concerned for the well-being of my fellow man as well as being well-rounded in muggle issues of the day."

Far from being surprised, Severus only nodded, urging her to continue.

"One of the last was a lecture on the obesity epidemic, and its continuing trend upwards." She laughed, "My father, a bit round in the middle, called the lecturer's projections, 'Stuff and nonsense!' and took us out for ice-cream after. But I heard from my mum in a letter he did end up cutting back on his red meat and scotch, and had lost .7 stone, so… there's that." She again smiled sadly.

"Hmm, there's a lesson in there, Hermione," he said pointedly, wondering if she would move past her grief to see the humor beyond.

"Drink the scotch and eat the steak anyway?" she ventured with a grin.

"Yes, witch. 'Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we—"

"Die'," she ended, saluting him with her wine glass and taking a healthy swallow.

Severus decided to share a bit of himself, "I have found since the fall of the Dark Lord, I have acquired a taste for living. If not for merry-making with my fellow man, then definitely for doing what pleases me in the time I have remaining on this Earth."

"And what pleases you?" she dimpled, and he was certain she was expecting he would give her a list of pursuits he enjoyed.

Instead, he said, "Beauty pleases me greatly, madam wife, and charm. Grace and wit. Intelligence and gentleness of spirit. Qualities such as these please me." This time, it was he who saluted her and took a drink.

"And where do you find such virtues?" she asked unknowingly.

"You really do not know, do you?" Severus smiled, and his eyes gentled when he looked at her. "I will make it my life's work to show you if you'll allow it."

"I look forward to it," she once more dimpled at him, and his heart was utterly and irretrievably lost.

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"This, madam wife, is your surprise." Gesturing, he held the door open for her and then led them to their seats in one of the balcony boxes of a muggle theatre. Hermione was glad they were attending a matinee, feeling entirely at ease in the casual outfit she was wearing, the two of them blending right in with the muggles surrounding them.

She looked at the program he handed her. " _The Nutcracker,_ " she said, looking at him wonderingly. "It's been years since I've seen this!"

He nodded, "I thought as much. I have not seen it, myself, so it should be… _informative_."

She squinted, " _Informative_ really, sir? Do you even enjoy ballet?" she asked skeptically.

He looked at her. "I told you, madam. I enjoy beauty in all its forms. Now hush, it's starting."

The orchestra began to tune, and the curtain rose to find the toymaker busy in his workshop. Hermione tried to lose herself in the enchanted story of Clara and her toy, but she was too aware of the man at her side. She would occasionally look towards him to catch his expression as he watched the performance, but he was wearing a mask of 'polite interest', and she couldn't gauge his thoughts.

Moving on impulse, and not really daring to think of what she was about to do, Hermione traversed the inches separating them and timidly reached for his hand.

He didn't move, didn't acknowledge her, but as she moved to pull away, his hand flipped upward and captured hers, enveloping it.

She drew a deep breath and again looked up at him. His expression was unchanged save for his thumb that was now making circles in her palm.

From then on, it was an exercise in awareness for her.

It took her a minute, but then she recognized he was drawing sigils onto her skin, and her heart thudded. Even with his attention seemingly on the performance in front of them, he was using his magic to protect, strengthen, and give her peace.

The story, having now lost all her attention, continued on as she focused instead on the enigmatic man at her side. Hermione felt the low thrum of his magical signature as it merged with hers. This was something she ordinarily would never have felt had she not recognized his hand movements for what they were and went searching for its origin. Focusing on the thread of his magic, she applied precision focus and magnification to her thoughts so she could familiarize herself with the feel of her husband's magic embracing her own.

It was… heady stuff for an eighteen-year-old Hermione Granger who had never experienced or attempted anything like this before, and she almost lost herself in the depths of him. In magical terms, if she was a stream, then Professor Snape was an ocean, and he was holding her in the palm of his hand.

The applause resounded, and Hermione returned to herself with a snap as the lights came up and people began making their way toward the exits.

What had she just experienced…? What had she just seen? She felt completely out of her depth and overwhelmed, and so… _young_. She felt so incredibly young and inexperienced next to the man at her side.

"Where were you?" her professor asked, looking at her with concern.

"An ocean away," she murmured, rising and turning from him.

Once they were out on the sidewalk, he turned her to face him and forced her to look up. "Hermione, you look ill again. Talk to me, girl!" he ordered.

She stepped back, not having the words; how did she convey the breadth and depth of what she saw? Some of his magic was so dark, vilely so, inky-black pools that clung and stretched with a hungry maw wanting to devour. And yet, some of his magic sparkled like quicksilver wanting to dance and play.

When she'd been… wherever she had been, she'd focused on where the sigils he was producing had originated, seeing them in silver threads traveling from his magic to hers. Her own magic was practically virgin next to his, and she saw how little strands of hers reached out to dance with his own, entwining and stretching to encompass one another… bonding so he could transfer the low-level spell to her.

The remembered sight of it, and it was a beautiful sight, brought tears to her eyes.

"Dammit, witch! _Legilimens_."

Before she could draw her next breath, her husband was in her thoughts, tearing through them like tissue paper on Christmas morning. And neither having the tools, nor being able to shield herself, Hermione had to watch once more as her discovery was brought to light for them both.

Once the memories were finished, he gently extricated himself from her mind and looked at her with awe. "How on Merlin's Earth you stumbled upon Kindare magic I will never know," he said mystified, pronouncing the word 'kin-dar-ee'. "There are those that have gone mad with what you've witnessed; those who have spent decades to glimpse just a tenth of what you saw, and you did it as natural as breathing. Come on, you need nourishment."

"I'm not really hungry," she said, suddenly feeling very dizzy, almost drunk.

"I'm not giving you a choice. Now move or I will pick you up and carry you myself."

His hand ushering her on, Hermione found she really didn't have a choice as he steered them to a muggle pub and into a tattered booth. Putting her head between her hands, Hermione groaned. It was the migraine to end all migrains! Dear gods! What the hell had she done to herself?

Distantly, she heard Professor Snape order her a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice. The juice arrived first, and she watched as he poured sugar into it and stirred. "Drink!" he ordered, "Every drop."

Knowing better than to question his tone, she did so, getting the grit of the undissolved sugar by the mouthful towards the end and grimacing at the taste. Putting down the glass, she was grateful when he gestured she should drink his water as well to cleanse her palate.

Within moments, she felt significantly better and was able to look at him clear-headed once more, her headache still present but fading.

Professor Snape looked at her assessing, stating finally, "Was this your first time doing such a thing?"

She nodded, "I… I felt the sigils you were forming on my hand, and I… guess I focused on your magic as it was intermingling with mine…"

"As low-thrumming as my spell was, I am shocked you noticed, witch."

She couldn't meet his gaze as she blushed, "I errm, might have been hyper-aware of you at the time, and well, I followed the rabbit trail…"

"And like the proverbial Alice, you found a wealth of knowledge for which you have no idea what to make."

She nodded and whispered, "That about sums it up."

"It seems, my dear, you have a natural affinity for this type of magic; have you ever considered becoming a healer?"

She looked up at him, her eyes mystified, not seeing the correlation. "Is this an advising session, then Professor Snape?" she smiled wanly.

He rolled his eyes at her small jest, and she continued, "Yes, I have, but I… I thought I'd focus more on research than an actual practice with patients."

Nodding, Professor Snape said, "Well, now my girl, you are going to get your wish. That career is tailor-made for one such as yourself, and incidentally, once you get better at honing your talent, you will be able to help in our experimentation exponentially."

Hermione, feeling bewildered, asked, "What is it I just saw, Professor?"

He gave a small, wry grin. "Quite simply, you saw the building blocks of my magic, and you saw yours as well, as well as the two of ours combining together to form something new between us."

She reached for his hand across the table, feeling adrift and needing the contact to ground her. Unhesitating, he gave it, rubbing his thumb once more in circles around her palm.

"Am I…" she licked her lips. "Is this normal?"

Her husband shook his head and smirked, "Not even remotely, witch. Your gift is very rare. Which is why we shall begin nurturing it as soon as possible for the wizarding world needs you."

"The wizarding world is having me perform other duties at present." She could tell her tone of bitterness stung him, and he removed his hand from her grasp. If she could call back what she said, she would've done.

He smiled sadly. "It is your choice, madam wife, whether you choose to nurture this gift or let it fallow. I will not choose for you." _in_ this _matter_ , she let the implied words stand between them.

Feeling so tired of a sudden, Hermione dutifully ate her soup, and once the bill was paid, did not protest as her professor drew her from the booth and walked them to Kings' Cross Station. "But what about your potions' stores?" she asked, barely able to hide a yawn.

"The errand will keep for another outing, wife. I need to get you home and abed. The magical expenditure you've experienced has taxed your system. As it is, I will need you to ingest several restorative draughts and let you sleep in so your body may heal. And you will not be doing any work tomorrow," he warned.

"Oh, but I'm so behind already!" she protested.

"And if you remember, wife, I have taken care of it. Now, rest against me." Professor Snape drew them down to a bench as they waited for the train to arrive, and he offered his chest, wrapping his arms about her shoulders as he did so.

With a tired sigh, Hermione complied, almost immediately falling asleep.

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Severus watched the dear bit of baggage at his side as she slept, this time her repose deep and restful as they lay in bed together.

Kindare magic.

His wife was capable of it, and it was such an unbelievably useful skill, especially in his field.

She was so precious. In every respect she was, and Severus had to make her see what she meant to him. Tomorrow was another day, another chance for him to push his suit, and he would make the best of it for they had two more nights before they must complete the ritual.

He could not let her go from his grasp, he could not. He pulled her closer, nuzzling her as he did so, holding her possessively while they slept.

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Reviews are the food of love for this little authoress. Don't let this artist starve! Feed me, Seymore!

;0)

Another update soon,

-k


	5. For Every Reason

Ch. 5— For Every Reason

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Hermione woke to the smells of toast and bacon and looked over; a breakfast tray complete with an assortment of phials, a pink rose, and a note were on the nightstand beside where she'd slept. She looked around. Her husband was nowhere to be found, and she had a brief pang of loss. For the last few days she had awoken in his arms, and now… well, she felt abandoned.

In his spikey scrawl, she read:

 **Dear Madam,**

 **Drink the pink phial first. A word of caution: it tastes vile and is best taken with pumpkin juice. Save the green until after you've eaten. Sip on the rest as you go.**

 **I am in the Potions Classroom making ready for the next steps in our brew.**

 **You have options today.**

 **Option One: Go find your friends in the Gryffindor Common Room. I believe Ginevra Weasley is organizing a 'scratch' Quiddich match later this afternoon on the pitch with the remaining players and those interested in such pursuits. If you choose to go, I would expect you in the Potions Classroom no later than 7:oo so we may finish the steps to our brew and ready it for testing.**

 **Option Two: Once you've breakfasted and readied yourself for the day, find me. Wear clothes meant for 'drudgery'.**

 **Yours,**

 **S. Snape**

Wondering what he meant by 'drudgery', for that could mean a multitude of things where potions and her husband were concerned, Hermione considered her options carefully before choosing to see her friends first. She would, once she had caught up a bit, meet with him later in the day, and maybe they could have dinner together. This thought caught her off guard, and she grinned. She could honestly say she was looking forward to her plans with him, and she marveled how much things differed from what she had imagined life with him to be.

Oh, he was formidable and uncompromising at times, but he was hardly the 'heartless' brute she had imagined him once upon a time.

In fact, Hermione was learning her husband cared for her welfare very much, and through each thoughtful action he performed for her benefit, he reinforced this. Her heart skipped time in thinking back to all the little things he had done for her: making her tea the way she liked it, opening doors for her and taking her burdens on himself as he was wont to do, always thoughtfully giving her options, instructing her in all manner of things.

And too, how much had she herself changed in such a short amount of time! Was it only a few days ago she was considering suicide? And though her situation had not changed, for she still had to wed, bed, and breed, Professor Snape's treatment and care of her made this tolerable… hell! More than tolerable if she were being honest.

Doing as he bid with the potions, and yes, the pink tasted positively vile, she made herself ready for the day, wearing last year's green jumper which was a bit snug in the breasts with a small hole she hadn't patched at the side and her oldest pair of jeans which were frayed at the knee; the perfect clothes for any kind of 'drudgery' he might dream up.

She jotted off her own note and sent it winging his way explaining her plans, and for the first time since this sordid business with the marriage law began, Hermione could honestly say she was happy.

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Severus tamped down the disappointment he felt at her choice.

He would have liked to have had her all to himself today, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt, his Gryffindor needed more society than his less-than-charming self could provide.

However, he had hope as well for she had chosen to compromise her time spent with her friends to spend a portion with himself, even going so far as to suggest they have dinner together.

Once he read her note, Severus summoned a house elf to place their order. The Snapes, it seemed, would be dining in this evening, he thought self-satisfied.

He couldn't even disparage himself for his thoughts. Yes, he was acting like a lovelorn Hufflepuff over her, but he hoped, dear gods he hoped, he exerted more control.

He began to mix elderberry essence with crushed juniper and wandlessly pointed to the record player where one of her selections was playing in the background to turn the album over to the 'B' side. Her taste was far more eclectic than he would have imagined for one as young as she.

Sampling from her collection, he made note of which songs would be most beneficial to his cause tonight and set about the preparations for the fertility potion she would need to ingest in two more days.

Two more days.

Two more days until for a brief moment of time they would be joined as one. Two more days until he became a father, for with his motility, her fertility, and the efficacy of the potion he was about to make, he most certainly would be one.

Two more days to show her his feelings before he let her decide for herself what she wanted regarding their relationship.

He had to marry and impregnate her, this was true, but their vows stated nothing about her living with him afterwards. The only reason he was insisting now was to build their rapport, but even in this, he was wrong to have done it.

She, trusting child she was, did not see anything amiss and still looked to him as an authority figure, one who could tell her what to do, when to do it, and how.

Eventually, he would have to cede that power to herself alone because he did not want her to be either beholden to him for her decision making or rebel against him, but until such a time, he would guide her and teach her, discipline and seek to mold her into the witch he believed her capable of becoming.

And hopefully, she would let him do this for her.

It was, after all, the least he could do for the mother of his children.

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"Hermione, wait up!" Turning around on her way back from the Quidditch Pitch, Hermione saw a red-faced, bright-eyed Ginny Weasley running her way. She looked so healthy, her eyes shining with victory and color in her cheeks from the wind. Hermione was thrilled her friend was able to find even a moment of happiness such as this.

But then, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff in a combined effort just beat the pants off Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to you. Are you…" she like her brother looked down at Hermione's stomach and then back up at her, but unlike Ron, Ginny realized the impertinence of such a question and altered it to "Errm, are you okay? Because I've been so worried about you, and I haven't had a moment to talk with you before you're off from class to class, and you're never at mealtimes anymore, and well… he lets you get _some_ sleep, right?" Ginny finished uncertain, looking at her with mild revulsion.

Hermione couldn't help it, she laughed. "Honestly, Gin, I'm alright. We haven't… that is to say Professor Snape and I haven't… well," she pinkened. The redhead blushed too, but she nodded in understanding.

"When, then?" Ginny asked pointedly.

"Two days from now; the one week anniversary of our wedding, and my day of peak ovulation." Hermione was still a little nauseated by the thought, but looking at Gin staring back at her, her expression horror-struck, again Hermione inexplicably felt the urge to laugh.

"You mean… they calculate all that?" Ginny paled.

"And more besides, Gin. Have you not researched what is going to happen with you?"

"No," she said weakly, and Hermione drew her to one of the stands to sit on a stair. "I—I keep hoping a miracle will occur, and I won't have to go through with marrying Lucius Malfoy. You know," she confided, "he sends me gifts… every so often at least once, sometimes twice a week. Usually it's jewelry… this time though… it was a new broom." She pointed to the broom propped against the stands, and even Hermione knew it was top of the line.

"He found out I liked Quidditch. He's been doing his research apparently." Ginny looked dismayed by the thought, and Hermione wondered where he was getting his intel….

"Ginny, does he write you letters?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yes… but I don't read them. They go straight into the fire," she finished with a huff, temper flaring in her green eyes.

"Well…" Hermione hedged, "you might want to read one or two perhaps before the wedding. When is the wedding by the way?"

"December 21st. The day after my seventeenth birthday, and Hermione," she paled, "D-do you think he will want to—" she gestured to the air between them.

Hermione shook her head. "No, Gin. He won't, not until you finish school. Remember what the Ministry declared on your behalf: you are underage and have been given an allowance to finish school before you…" she gestured to the air between them.

Ginny nodded, "It's so unfair you don't get an allowance too!"

Hermione shrugged. It was a pang, but it was getting to be a familiar pang and was, therefore, not very barbed.

"You know," Ginny continued, "I always wanted a big family. Harry and I—" she grimaced, refusing to give into grief, "Harry and I had planned to have at least three because of my big, boisterous family and the fact he was so alone when he was younger. We had…" she cleared her throat, "we'd even picked out names."

"Oh, Ginny!" Hermione reached for her friend.

"I always wanted children," she sobbed, "But not like this! Not like this, Hermione!"

"Hush now," Hermione soothed, "It's going to be alright. I know it. Can I tell you a secret?"

Ginny dried her tears and looked at her, trying to compose herself. "Wh-what?" the younger girl sniffed.

Hermione leaned in close and whispered, "I'm actually beginning to enjoy my time with Professor Snape."

"What?" Ginny looked amazed.

Hermione nodded, "It's true. He's actually quite… well, 'nice' isn't the right word, but he's good to me, Gin. He takes care of me and treats me gently. He could have done the… well, he could have done the _deed_ the night we married, but he decided to give me as much time as we could afford for us to get more acquainted."

"And he's… he's good to you?" Ginny asked skeptically.

Hermione smiled, "Very. I could have done a lot worse, I think. Which makes me think, perhaps you should read what Lucius Malfoy has to say to you _before_ you burn the letters. Forewarned is forearmed and all that."

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed, "Yes. I guess you're right. You know George and Ron want to kill him. And if mum and dad were still living…"

"If your mum and dad were still living, I have a feeling things would be a lot different for you, Ginny," Hermione smiled gently.

The redhead smiled sadly, "I guess we're all orphaned one way or another now, aren't we?"

Hermione nodded, "Yeah, it certainly seems that wa—"

"Look at what we have here, Blaise," a roughened voice called to their left, and Hermione looked on with dread to see four older Slytherin boys including Blaise Zambini and one Hufflepuff heading their way. "Well, well, well. It's the Gryffindor whores. How's it feel to have a snake inside you, Granger, yeah?"

"In her mouth, in her quim, in her arse," another piped in to gales of guffaws and laughter. Hermione, sickened by their words, drew closer to Ginny protectively. The Slytherins that were left were the worst of the worst, and these three were Death Eaters' children, she knew it. However, they had been allowed to come back to finish their educations. After all, in this new wizarding world, every drop of magical blood was precious.

"Tell you what, ladies, I think I'll be generous today and let you sample the wares of a younger man." He groped himself lewdly and started to take off his robes. Hermione's eyes widened.

In an instant, she and Ginny drew their wands.

With two disarming hexes shot at them from behind, their wands went flying uselessly away from them.

"We'll show them exactly what it means to be a Gryffindor whore," another said viciously, grabbing for Ginny and ripping her from Hermione's side.

"Hermione!" Ginny yelled. "So help me, gods! Get off me!" she shrieked, screaming for all she was worth.

Hermione, meanwhile, was being forcibly restrained by Blaise, while the leader, a sixth year Slytherin she couldn't name, continued to methodically take off his robes.

He sneered, "I'm going to stuff something in that know-it-all mouth of yours, Granger, even you can't speak around." Hermione turned her eyes away from seeing the boy's hardened sex exposed. "Yes, you like that don't you, slut? You like it, or at least you'll learn to… Damn right, you will. Now kneel for me, little mudblooded whore, and if you make it good, I won't bloody you up too much."

Hermione lifted her chin and met his stare, "You do anything to us, and you'll have hell to pay. You'd know that already if you had the sense the gods gave a dungbeetle," she spat. She struggled as Blaise forced her to kneel in front of the sixth year. "You don't even know the hell you're unleashing if you do this to us," she stated with certainty. "I pity you. I really do."

"Oh be quiet, mudblooded bitch, and take what's offered you. Blaise, open her mouth!"

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Severus looked up from his marking when he heard an uncharacteristic tapping on the door.

Knowing who it was immediately, he said, "Enter" and watched as Lucius Malfoy strolled in his classroom.

"Severus." Lucius greeted.

"Lucius," Severus acknowledged, putting down the scroll he was reading. "What brings you here?" Severus asked, knowing the answer already.

"I can't come up here just to see your charming self?" the blond man smirked.

"I think it highly unlikely." Severus made a show of examining Lucius's boots, "Been to the Quidditch Pitch have you?"

Lucius bit his lip, "Ah, I see I'm caught out. I must thank you for the tip by the way. The new broomstick was just the ticket for the little vixen. And you should've seen her fly! She was… extraordinary."

Severus looked at his oldest friend and smiled to himself. The man was besotted, and it was little wonder why. After being married to Narcissa Malfoy for seventeen years, he probably considered her death to be his ultimate reprieve. They had, after all, declared unbreakable vows to one another on their wedding day, a pureblooded tradition, and neither Lucius nor his wife could break that bond to seek others outside their marriage bed.

And well Severus knew the last decade of his marriage had been torture for the wizard. However, Lucius had found other ways to occupy his time, up to and including subverting the Dark Lord's plans from the inside as well as providing Severus some of the intel he needed to bring the snake-headed bastard down.

Lucius' role in the war yet remained unknown, and that's the way Lucius would prefer it. After all, he had a reputation and standing in the pureblooded community to uphold.

His greatest disappointment had been his son, and Severus knew Lucius had tried to convince Draco to keep his nose clean. He had tried to steer the boy away from the Dark Lord's plans. However, Draco had too much of his mother in him, and towards the end, he had been trained by none other the Bellatrix herself in the ways of the dark arts.

Lucius sat down on the seat opposite Severus's desk and then immediately rose again. "I feel like a first-year called to carpet sitting there. Come, it's a beautiful day outside for late November. Let's take a walk around the grounds."

"You realize you're transparent as glass, don't you?" Severus drawled, but he gained his feet, feeling a walk around the grounds sounded a perfect idea… and for just the same reason.

They made their way out the castle doors, and began to stroll at a leisurely pace, Lucius with his cane, and Severus with his hands held casually clasped behind his back as they talked.

"And how does married life treat you, old friend? I must say, from what I see, it suits you well," Lucius said knowingly.

Severus shook his head, "She is… We are taking it one day at a time, Lucius. Every day with her is a new discovery. You won't believe this, but she's able to do kendar—"

A scream pierced the air, and Severus bolted towards the sound, his wand instantly drawn. Lucius too, his cane brandished in front of him ran only a pace behind.

A moment later, the sight that met Severus's eyes had his blood running cold.

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"Oh, be quiet, mudblooded bitch, and take what's offered you. Blaise, open her mouth!"

Hermione struggled and fought, but she was held fast, and then his finger, his dirty, disgusting finger penetrated her mouth trying to pry it open.

Hermione bit down and got a hard-handed slap to the face for her trouble.

She saw stars.

Again, the hand was at her jaw wresting her mouth open as— Gods, this really couldn't be happening to her!

The sixth year Slytherin boy stepped forward, his sex dangling right in front of her mouth as he gritted, "Take it. Take it all, you bitch!"

A voice hissed, "Avada Kadavr—" and Hermione used that momentary distraction to break free of Blaise's hold and headbutt the sixth year in the groin.

He went down on a whimper.

Diving, Hermione rolled to her wand and gaining her feet, pointed it at the sixth year.

In a trice, she had him bound and incapacitated.

She went searching for Ginny, her eyes only for her friend and found her gasping, crying into someone's shoulder. "Gin. Ginny, are you alright?" She brushed off the hands trying to clutch her and turned to her friend, holding out her arms.

The redheaded girl fled into them, sobbing.

Again, hands grasped at her robes, and she turned unseeing with her wand, roaring, "DO NOT TOUCH US!" Sparks flew from her wand to the ground, scouring the earth.

Hermione turned back to her friend and looked at her, analyzing. Her robes were torn, her bra exposed, and her knickers, oh dear gods! They hung at one ankle, ripped, and bloody.

"Honey, c'mon. It's alright. It's alright. Let's get you to Madam Badouin." Holding the sobbing girl, and practically carrying her up the stairs, they made it to the front steps of the castle before two pairs of hands insistently stopped their forward progress.

Frantic, and going to KILL the persons responsible for stopping them, Hermione turned around to face… her husband and Lucius Malfoy. The two of them with jaws implacable as granite.

" _Both_ of you need medical attention, Hermione," her husband grit. "Let us help you, witch." So saying, Severus nodded to Malfoy and the blond man gathered the sobbing girl from Hermione's arms and began taking the steps two at a time towards the hospital wing.

Upon being relieved her burden, Hermione collapsed, leaning heavily on the arms that held her.

"There, there, my girl. It's alright," he soothed, having to hold her up.

Hermione looked at him, panic threatening to take hold, and she clawed for some rationality.

Her fighting days were behind her, she thought. Her need to do battle, to conquer. One tear fell, then two, and then she was sobbing, almost hysterically so as Professor Snape's arms came around her.

He was saying words to her, but she couldn't understand them. She could only cry. What fresh hell is this? The phrase kept repeating on a circuit in her thoughts. Her life had taken on a nightmarish quality with grasping hands and yawning maws and all who wanted to take everything from her—especially her innocence.

Finally, she screamed in rage, and throwing off the hands that held her and making her way to dungeon stairs. She was leaving now. To hell what the Ministry said. Throw her in Azkaban, take away her magic, feed her to the bloody dementors!

She didn't care.

It was time this charade was through. She had given it her best shot, had she not? She had tried to play it their way. She had been beaten, broken, violated in every possible respect save one.

And that was scheduled to happen two days from now.

NO MORE! She didn't realize she had screamed the words.

The portraits in the castle vibrated upon their walls as she passed them by, and for once, the staircases did not play around with her, aligning exactly where she wanted to go.

And unbeknownst to her, each student to cross her path fled out of her way, terrified of the dark-haired harridan with sparks flying from her wand and murder in her eyes.

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Severus watched as she tore through the rooms she shared with him, gathering her things in a frenetic pace. He was of two minds. He could stop her from going, but to do so, he would have to make her captive to his will. That was something he swore he would never do.

If her decision was to go to Azkaban, then she was an adult. It was her choice to make.

However, she was beyond hearing him, beyond anything save her own grief and rage.

In this, he would have to let her go.

Oh, to hell with it! He couldn't let her go.

"HERMIONE!" he bellowed, his voice ringing through the rafters, echoing off the stone, "You will stop what you're doing, witch, this instant!"

Severus could see his voice had pierced her adrenaline-induced fugue, and it was with caution, he approached her, trying not to bear down on her as he gentled his tone, "You are going to stop, and you are going to breathe. And you are going to rationally think this through. Do you understand me, witch?"

"There is nothing to think through," she said with certainty as she met his stare, pointing her wand at him. " _Move_ out of my way."

Severus held up his hands in surrender. "I will not stop you, wife. If this is your choice, so be it." He gave her a level stare, "but you will make your choice with a clear head and in a rational state of mind. Now, let me tend the cut at your lip. It's still bleeding."

Her eyes opened in surprise as she gingerly prodded the cut with her tongue, only just, it seemed, becoming aware of it. Nodding slightly, she took a deep breath and stowed her wand.

Severus breathed a small sigh of relief.

 _Step one in dealing with a cornered animal, show gentleness, not anger,_ he reminded himself.

Gesturing she should sit on their transfigured sofa, Severus grabbed a bottle of Dittany from his stores and coming back knelt before her.

He spoke softly, "You were magnificent today, witch, and I would be honored to fight with you in battle by my side."

"You did," she spoke lowly, her voice deadened. "And I thought I was done fighting, professor."

He shook his head. "Not until you breathe your last, witch, and you've proved you have a fighting spirit. I witnessed it plainly today." The admiration in his voice was unmistakable.

"I can't keep doing this," she whispered hollowly, wincing as he applied the drops of Dittany to her lip.

"Neither will you have to. I was remiss in protecting you, protecting all of you, from the likes of Mr. Jameson and his cohorts. That will be remedied today."

"Oh, and how do you propose to do this?" she hissed, her eyes sparking into his, "have us women wear chastity belts? Not out of the realm of possibility for this current regime. _This_ is what happens when women are denigrated, treated like cattle, and bargained for at market, and we are quickly approaching a wizarding dark age, professor, and it's only going to get worse." She scoffed, "I can only imagine what life is like for other witches _not_ _protected_ by Hogwarts' School." She prodded her lip with her tongue again, testing the freshly-healed cut, "Or maybe I can."

"Yes. Yes, you can," he agreed, his jaw working. "It is an ugly age we live in, Hermione. The Ministry is doing this out of fear. You know as well as I. They will eventually rescind the damn law, but until they do, slightly structured chaos will reign, and our most valuable commodity is now our women and the children they provide." So saying, Severus reached for her hand, pleased when she didn't draw it back.

"You are valuable, Hermione"

"Yes, for all the gold you paid for me," she scoffed bitterly and spat, "and the services I will provide."

"Precious, wife. I meant you are _precious_ … to me." At his admission, Hermione's eyes flew to meet his, and Severus allowed her to see the truth of his feelings.

She drew a sharp breath. "How long? How long have you…" _felt this way about me_ , the words she didn't say.

He smiled sadly. "I cannot determine when, but I can tell you the moment I sought to do something about it. It was the moment you received your scroll advising you were now placed on the marriage registry. You were angry but then quiet resignation took hold, and I couldn't stand to see that light, that spark, that passion that made the Gryffindor girl who waved her hand so incessantly in my classroom day after day, die. I knew I had to save you from that, and were it not for Ministerial Decree, I would not trouble you further other than to have you in my classes as your instructor once more."

She studied him at length, saying quietly, "Is this really all you feel, professor? Is this the depth of your concern and care? As only my instructor? If so, why not choose Ginny or Penelope or even Pansy Parkinson for Merlin's sake! Why me?" she ground, her eyes piercing to his core.

Severus met her stare with an open one of his own, confessing, "Because you can meet me quip for quip in a muggle records shop, because you enjoy each and every crumb of knowledge I impart you and soak it up like a sponge water, because your unmanageable hair gets on everything, especially my robes, and I find myself losing time throughout the day when I find one on my person and am reminded of you. Because…"

Her eyes wide, she gulped, "Y-yes?"

Severus took a deep breath and took the plunge, "Because I love you, Hermione. For every reason and no reason at all. I love you."

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Hermione looked at the man before her with his onyx eyes so incredibly transparent with the truth of the words he spoke and felt her heart lurch, whether in joy or dismay, she could not say.

All she knew was she was feeling very overwhelmed, and his confession did nothing to ease the burden.

"I—I have to check on Ginny," she stated mechanically, gently removing her hand from his. She tried to tell herself she only imagined the fleeting look of disappointment on his face before his expression closed off, and he was her implacable professor again.

"Of course, madam. Come, I will escort you upstairs." His tone was hardened formality, but Hermione could see past it now for the brusque defense it was. 'For every reason and no reason at all', the words played 'round and 'round on repeat in her mind as they made their way aboveground. 'For every reason and no reason at all'.

"How is she?" Hermione asked worriedly once she and Severus gained the stairs to the hospital wing entrance.

Lucius Malfoy was outside the door, a frown marring his face. "Madam Badouin thinks she'll make a full recovery. It wasn't rape."

Hermione drew a relieved breath.

"It seemed the scape-graced whoreson cut her on the thigh while he was struggling to have his way with her, may he rot in a thousand hells."

"So you did—" Severus led.

"Kill him? Absolutely," Lucius answered, "And I marked the bastard pinning her down with a lash across his face; he was the Hufflepuff brute. Badouin seems to think he's going to lose the eye."

Hermione watched as the blond man adjusted one of his cuffs. "The headmistress has come and gone, and has talked with Ginevra, getting her side of things. I imagine there will be an inquest, but a look into a pensieve from any of the four of us should tell the tale. The remaining _young men_ are being detained until they can be taken to the Ministry for trial and sentencing."

Madam Badouin appeared at the door and said softly, "She is sedated at present, but she is conscious. If you'd like to come in to visit, you may, but you cannot stay long. She needs her rest."

Hermione gently brushed past the matron to go straight to Ginny's hospital bed. Her friend was dressed in a white cotton hospital gown, covered modestly to the throat and had many soft blankets and pillows surrounding her.

Gingerly, Hermione approached her bed.

The red-headed girl was in a drug-induced state of calm, her eyes sluggishly tracking Hermione's progress across the room, then Professor Snape's and Mr. Malfoy's. She held out her hand for Hermione to take, and with tears in her eyes, Hermione did so. "Sometimes there are no words, Gin," Hermione stated simply.

Ginny looked at her and a single teardrop fell. "I wish…" _Good Christ! Don't say what I think you're going to say!_ Hermione thought. "I wish I had died with him, Hermione," she said simply to them all and curled in on herself.

Reaching for the younger girl, Hermione held her close, whispering, "Some days, I wish I did too." And the two witches shared their tears, crying for what was, what wasn't, and would never be again.

At length, another's voice rang out in the ward, and Hermione's eyes widened. "What's happened?" She gently disentangled herself from Ginny to get to her feet.

"Ron—" she began calmly.

"What the hell happened to her? Did you do something to her?" The red-head turned on Mr. Malfoy. "Or you?" he asked Professor Snape.

"Ron—" Hermione broke in coming to stand between the red-headed boy and the two wizards looking at him with amused interest and murderous intent, respectively.

Ron looked towards Lucius, "You did something to her, didn't you, you slimy bast—!"

"Ronald Weasley, you come here!" Hermione hissed, grabbing the boy by the ear and twisting him away from Lucius Malfoy, dragging him toward Ginny's bed. She stated lowly, "Ginny and I were attacked by four Slytherin boys and one Hufflepuff outside the Quidditch Pitch. Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy… they helped save us, helped save her." She gestured to the bed where Ginny lay, the girl's eyes beginning to grow heavy with sleep.

"Here, lay back," Hermione urged Ginny, plumping her pillow and easing her to a prone position once more. "There's a girl. Why don't you take a little nap, alright? Ron and I will stay with you while you sleep, and we'll be here with you when you wake."

Wearily, the girl nodded, and watching as Ron kissed his little sister on the forehead, and spoke lowly to her, Hermione made her way back to where her husband and Mr. Malfoy stood watching this little tableau unfold.

"Your friend needs to learn some manners," Mr. Malfoy advised tightly.

"My friend, Mr. Malfoy, is worried about his sister," Hermione countered, jaw just as tight. "These days, he does nothing but worry as nothing can be done to improve the situations of those for whom he cares the most."

Mr. Malfoy sneered down at her. "And are you really as miserable as all that?"

"Lucius," her husband spoke in warning.

Hermione's eyes narrowed to slits, and she drew her wand on the blond man in the time it took for him to blink. "You listen to me, and you listen very well, to delude yourself into thinking these are the lives we would have chosen for ourselves is lunacy, and mark my words, it will be the undoing of the wizarding world should this subjugation continue. So saying, I vow if you hurt her in any way, I will find you, and I will end you, Mr. Malfoy." She nodded with certainty. "You have my word on that." A spark from her wand tip flew to land on the lapel of his pristine slate gray robes, singing the fabric.

Lifting his hands, Mr. Malfoy slowly put his hands on hers where she held her wand, bidding she lower it. He met her stare, and Hermione saw his eyes were clear of guile as well as glinting with an emotion akin to respect for her. "And you have my word, Madam Snape, I will never harm one hair on Ginevra's head. She will be well cared for, and when the time comes, I will make this my vow."

He released her hands and turning to Severus, nodded once before quitting the room.

With a tremulous sigh, Hermione closed her eyes and leaned back wearily against the stone wall. Gods, but she was exhausted! A moment later, she felt her husband's arm at her side urging her to 'sit down before you fall down, girl'.

She complied, all but sliding into the wingback chair he conjured for her by Ginny's bedside.

"I will send dinner up for you and the Weasleys later on," her husband stated. "For now, I suggest you rest, Madam Snape. Do not forget, you've undergone a shock as well." So saying, he kissed her cheek and left the room, his robes in full billow.

Gods! How could she be so young and yet feel so old?

Hermione closed her eyes, for just a moment only she told herself.

It was this thought that sent her fast to sleep.

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A/N: What did you think of Severus' confession? What about Hermione's reaction? Our little Gryffindor has a lot to process, does she not? I wonder what will become of it. Poor Ginny! And Lucius and his behavior towards Ginny… I do wonder about that…

Another update posting soon, my dears.

-k


	6. Wicked Game

Ch. 6— Wicked Game

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 **A/N: The Authoress would like to remind her readers this is rated 'M' for a reason.**

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"Hermione. Wake up," Ron's voice pierced her dreams, and her eyes snapped open.

Immediately, she was on her feet. "How long have I been sleeping? Is Ginny—" she blinked and looked down confusedly. Gods! She hadn't felt this way since the war!

"Steady on. It's alright. Ginny's fine, and you've been asleep about three hours. I wanted to talk with you before… well, before _he_ gets back up here. He's checked on you twice now." Ron flicked his wand and with a mumbled 'muffliato' encompassed the bed and Hermione only within his hearing. He stated lowly, "Charlie, George, and I… we've come up with a plan to get you and Ginny out of here."

Hermione looked at him sharply.

"You see, Charlie knows of this place in Romania that's unplottable; a friend who was concerned about Ginny being forced into marriage told him about it. We are making a portkey, but it won't be ready for another two days.

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. "For Ginny, it's worth it, Ron, but by then, Professor Snape and I… well, I may be pregnant." There the word was spoken between them.

He shook his head, hopeful. "Not if we hide you away in the castle. I have the Maurader's Map, Hermione. He won't be able to find you, and when it's time to go… we go."

Nodding, Hermione began to plan with her friend as Ginny Weasley slept on, a gentle rain fell outside, and the creator of the 'Muffliato' spell listened to every word.

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She had made her choice to leave.

Severus had told her the depth of his feelings, and she was choosing to go. He closed his eyes, feeling is heart rend. What did he expect? Any ill-gotten spoils of war were bound to come bearing curses.

And he had thought her _his_.

These last few days had been some of the happiest of his life, and to know without a doubt she looked on their time together as a millstone about her neck, hurt. Oh, it hurt.

A thought occurred to him, and he stood up taller. He still had one more day with her, that was if she didn't intend to lead him a merry chase about the castle. One more day to press his suit, and if he was right about her character, and he believed he was, Hermione would not leave him without ending things properly.

Sending up the dinner he had ordered this morning so his wife, Ginevra, and Weasley could partake, Severus jotted a note to her and sent it winging with the elf.

There was still a breath of a chance left.

Yes, there was.

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The elf arrived with a pop bearing an assortment of trays, giving one to Ginny, one to Ron, and herself. Hermione lifted the lid and found it was far from being usual Hogwarts fair, the food served them was fit for a… romantic dinner for two, her mind supplied. Lobster Florentine in a white wine reduction with sautéed broccoli and a side of pommes frites covered with an herbed garlic spread. And if that wasn't enough, chocolate torte.

Hermione swallowed, her initial interest in the food forgotten as she marveled at her husband's thoughtfulness once she read his note:

 **Hermione, please accept dinner with my compliments. If you would care to find me afterwards, I am in the potion's classroom decanting our brew. Once it sets, it will be ready for testing tonight.**

— **S**

He had given them—the three of them—the dinner he'd planned for the two of them tonight. And she knew he couldn't _tolerate_ Ron!

For a second, Hermione looked at Ron's plate skeptically, half-way tempted to warn him, but then she thought better of it. Severus wouldn't do that… would he? She bit her lip, undecided. However, from the noise of approval Ron made as he tucked in. Hermione chose to trust it would be fine.

Turning her attention to Ginny, she watched as the younger girl made mince of her chocolate torte, showing a complete lack of interest in her dinner. Looking up, Ginny gave her a half-hearted smile, and said, "I'm feeling better, Hermione. I promise. The two of you don't need to keep watch."

"Eat!" ordered Ron sternly, pointing to Ginny's plate and Hermione nodded, encouraging.

With a determined breath, Ginny took a bite of chocolate torte and chewed. That seemed to whet her appetite, and she began eating slow and methodical bites of what was on her plate.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny was going to be okay. She would need time, but she would be okay.

For the better part of the afternoon, Ron and Hermione had talked and planned while Ginny dozed. Madam Badouin advised she would be released from hospital tomorrow in time to make her first block of classes.

They now had a solid plan.

Everything would be business as usual for the three of them until the night of the ratification of Hermione's marriage. She would disappear after her last class and wait in the Room of Requirement. She could not leave the castle, the Ministry would locate her if she did. However, she could hide out and wait, and that was what she intended to do, the Maurader's Map her companion.

Once the portkey was made, Ron and Ginny would sneak out of the Gryffindor common room and come to get her; the three of them would take the secret passage to Hogsmeade. George would meet them at the Three Broomsticks where the four of them would immediately port to the unplottable place in Romania.

Her plan was foolproof… foolproof but heartless.

And she, gods! Why was she having second thoughts? Of course, she needed to go! There was absolutely no reason for her to stay!

' _For every reason and no reason at all_ ,' her mind supplied.

Pushing away her dinner, Hermione rose. What the hell was she going to do?

"Hey, 'mione," Ron groused around a mouthful, "Are you goin' ta eaf that'" he pointed to her plate.

Hermione ignored him. "I've got to…" she searched around the room, "I'll check in with you both tomorrow. I've got to go."

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Severus looked up from the potion he was stirring, feeling her eyes upon him.

His wife stood near the classroom door, indecision writ plainly on her face. Oh, she would have made a terrible spy, and Severus decided to press this to his advantage.

"Out or in, Madam Snape," he gestured.

Straightening her shoulders, she stepped inside the door, and he beckoned she come over. "Grab the tongs, madam wife, and I'll show you the culmination of our efforts."

She followed him, handing him the tongs and watching as he drew one little, white rodent from the crate on the floor and put it on the table in front of them. With a word, the thing was held in stasis standing on its hind legs.

"How is Miss Weasley?" Severus asked.

"She's much recovered from this morning. I just… I hate to see the haunted look in her eye again." She reached for his arm. "Oh, Severus, if you had but seen her this morning after the match! She looked so happy. And none of us have been that way in so long."

 _I have been, witch,_ he wanted to tell her. _I have been with you._

He didn't think she even realized she had called him 'Severus'; neither was she understanding how comfortable she was with touching him now. His heart twisted when he remembered her words this afternoon. One more day, his mind supplied. One more day.

"Do you see bowl to your left?" he asked.

"Is it filled with… cheese?" she asked.

"Yes, from the house-elf's finest stores, coated with potion. Now, be ready to administer it." With a wave of his wand, Severus saw his wife wince as a dart of dark red light pierced the stasis spell holding the rodent to hit the thing directly in its midsection with Cruciatus.

It squeaked, immediately falling in on itself and whimpering.

She hurriedly grabbed for a piece of the precisely quartered cheese and went to the trembling thing on the table.

"Careful now," Severus cautioned coming to stand beside her, "I don't want you bitten."

She gently stroked the thing, her heart in her eyes when she saw its pain. Severus tried not to roll his eyes. Putting her hand under its head, his wife held the cheese for the rodent to sniff, smiling when it did so. It then darted its tiny tongue out to taste and began to nibble. At first bite, its fur stood straight up before settling back down once more, and immediately, the thing turned back over on all fours without any ill effects whatsoever to finish its treat.

His wife was speechless as it started to scurry away, no worse for wear, nose to the ground searching for more cheese. Severus isolated him from his fellows for further observation.

"It worked!" she sang, smiling up at him.

"Initial testing of the potion is encouraging, but we are a long way away from proving its effectiveness. Now, would you like to continue with our trials," he gestured to cage, "or would you like to learn more about Kindare magic?"

"Does this mean I spare your hapless, furry victims here from torture?" she dimpled at him, and Severus's heart skipped time.

Wondering if she would allow it, Severus drew her towards him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Meeting her eyes, he whispered, "You grant them a temporary reprieve, madam wife, I assure you." He was inches away from her mouth now.

If he leaned down, would she refuse him?

He watched as she licked her lips.

He couldn't risk it; they were on unsteady ground as it was. Gently putting her from him, he turned and said while tidying his workstation, "What if I told you that with your gift, Hermione, I could almost stop using lab mice entirely."

"How?" she asked incredulous, coming to help him tidy the cauldrons.

Finished, Severus banished the rag he used, and nodded, "Follow me to the study, witch. I have a book on the subject for you."

"By the way," she said softly as they sat on the sofa, "I thank you for dinner, professor. That was very… considerate of you. My friends truly appreciated it."

"Think nothing of it," he dismissed, reaching for her book.

"Oh, but I… I think everything of it, sir." Her eyes met his, brimming with warmth. "You didn't have to do what you did. In fact, there are so many things you don't have to do, but you did them for… me," her eyes narrowed, "to show me how—" _much_ _you_ _love me._ The words she didn't say.

His little lioness was testing her claws, and Severus prayed she wouldn't draw too much blood from him. His death would surely be by a thousand cuts as it was. "Yes," he whispered, "I do these things and more besides because I love you, Hermione." He stared at her openly, "and every day until I breathe my last, I intend to show you how much." _If you'll allow it._ The words he did not say.

She gulped, and he saw once more she was feeling the uncertainty she had upon arriving to the dungeons this afternoon. If he pressed her now, he would scare her.

Urging himself to be patient, he cleared his throat and reverted to their more comfortable roles of student-teacher, "Now, Kindare is the magical science of looking within a magical object to its nature. It is related to occlumency but one is a science and the other a—"

"Neuroscience," she broke in grinning.

Severus scowled, "Just because we're married, does not give you liberty to interrupt me while I talk. If you continue to do so, wife, you might as well teach yourself."

Completely unrepentant, her eyes danced merrily into his. "I'm sorry, professor. Truly. Please continue," she gestured.

Severus had to stop himself from reaching over to kiss her.

Instead, he huffed, "Like with muggle microscopes, those gifted with Kindare are able to look at the building blocks of a being's magic to diagnose where the distortion lies should it exist or where magic should be applied should intervention prove necessary."

He gestured, "For example, if we were examining the crucio'd rodent before it ingested the potion, and you were able to look within it as you did to me at the ballet, then you would see where the curse caused by my magic had harmed it and how extensive the damage was. I'm sure you noticed that some of my magic was light and some is dark."

She nodded.

"A Cruciatus curse would show a black taint marred the thing—"

"And I'd be able to treat it with a more exact dosage of potion, depending on the severity of the damage I've seen, right?" She looked over at him, "But how does that stop us from using mice? I thought you said the effectiveness of the potion would have to be proved, and this would necessitate making more test subjects in to get a baseline of efficacy."

Severus nodded, "This is true, and through our testing, in monitoring our subjects, you can tell me how effective the cure is on the curse damage, thereby restricting the number of subjects we use. This is how we shall progress in our work."

He wondered if she caught on to the fact she was using 'we' and 'our'.

She bit her lip, "Is there a way for us not to torture animals for testing?"

Cocking a brow, Severus stated, "The majority of potions are broad-spectrum whereas your gift is like wielding a scalpel, Hermione. You could take the damage away from the rat the moment you saw the taint by murmuring a precision-focused grade-school healing chant."

Her eyes went wide.

Severus nodded, "Now try to imagine performing surgery on someone else's magic to rid them of curse damage, to disentangle the imprint of dark magic from their magical essence so they're sane. And while you're at it, think of muttering the correct incantation to cure those ills not even the best and brightest at St. Mungo's could ever hope to pinpoint."

She stated incredulous, "But… surely they have a Kindare on staff?"

Severus scowled, "Did you not believe me when I said you were precious, wife? In every possible respect, and this is only one mind, you are. There hasn't been a practicing Kindare in thirty years in the United Kingdom and to have one now when the population is decimate and so many are left suffering from curse damage due to the war..."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, Severus! I could help so many."

"Oh, wife, you could name your price," Severus smirked.

As the realization donned, he made a mental note to catalogue this moment for posterity.

Finally, his wife was beginning to understand her worth.

It was about damn time.

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Hermione woke to the sound of music softly playing.

She had fallen asleep once more in his arms as was their usual. This time, however, he had insisted she ready herself for bed and tucked her in as one would a child.

He still wore his trousers and white button-down shirt with her as he had done so all week, and when he'd held her, it was, she thought, with a quiet desperation, molding her to his form as close as possible with the bed clothes separating them.

This was her last night to be with him for she would be leaving after her last class tomorrow, and it panged her to think this was so. She hated to think it being wasted because he was no longer there to hold her.

Rising from the bed, she padded across the floor and went in search of him, finding him in the study.

The sight that greeted her, however, stole her breath.

He stood by the fireplace, a tumbler of firewhiskey in his hand, and Hermione had the thought she had never seen a lonelier sight.

That's when she noticed the song.

It was one of the albums she had chosen, and she gulped. It was a song about unrequited love and heartbreak with the repeating lyric, _'No, I don't want to fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart.)_ And the thought this was so, and he seemed to know it had her yearning to make it better for him.

Suddenly straightening, he turned to face her and showed no surprise at her standing by the study door.

He drawled softly, "Go back to your bower, Miss Granger, and dream your little girl's dreams." He hadn't called her that since their wedding day, and she felt another loss tear through her at the thought.

She was planning to leave this man tomorrow and would be 'Miss Granger' once more soon enough. Never having consummated their union, she could get an annulment. "Come back to bed with me," she entreated perversely in direct contrast to her thoughts.

He shook his head. "You don't know what you ask, girl. I cannot, not tonight." Reaching for the tumbler, he downed the contents as the song crooned, _'What a wicked game you played, to make me feel this way.'_

She took a step into the room, and that's when she noticed his shirt was unbuttoned fully, revealing his chest and the button on his trousers undone showing a smattering of dark hair that she knew led to his sex.

He continued softly, "And you stand there in your pristine white nightgown, your hair a riot of curls begging to be mussed, and you have no idea, girl, of the charming picture you make or how thin my control is tonight." Going over to the sideboard, he poured himself another measure of firewhiskey and sipped it.

She took another step towards him as the song reiterated _: 'No, I don't want to fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart.)_ Her hand trembling, she placed it on his back.

He put down the glass he held and spinning, caught her hand in his and shook his head. His eyes met hers as he said hoarsely, "I don't have the strength, Hermione, and I know this is not what you want. Go back to bed."

"And if I don't want to go," she whispered, stepping closer to him.

"Then you need to understand what it is you ask," he gave her a level stare. "Go back," his voice was anguished, "please."

It was the 'please' that broke her. This man begged for nothing, and yet, his eyes were begging hers. Another step brought her into his arms, and they came around her like steel bands, trapping her in. _'What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way'._

And she felt the evidence of his desire for her press against her mons. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, yes, little girl," his adam's apple worked as his eyes burned into hers, "I want you, and tonight, if you'd allow it, I'd have you for my own."

Reaching, she cupped his face, taking heart when he nuzzled into her palm. She bit her lip, feeling the lower half of him twitch and pulse against her.

The song ended, it's lyrics haunting, and the spell between them was broken.

He pushed her gently away from him towards the door and turned back to the sideboard, finishing his glass.

She couldn't leave him. But she couldn't stay. Her thoughts went spinning: _'No, I don't want to fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart.)… …. 'I love you. For every reason and no reason at all.'_

Making her choice, Hermione took a step towards him and once more lay her hand across his back. "Take me to bed, Severus."

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Severus closed his eyes, his bruised heart elated.

Taking a breath, he opened them and turned to her just as another song began to play. He drew her close to him, feeling her body become pliant to his as he met her stare. Though there was trepidation in her eyes, there was also certainty where none had existed before. "This is what you want?" he asked lowly.

She nodded, "Yes. Yes, it is."

"Then so be it, wife." Severus drew her hand up and kissed her palm center before placing it on his shoulder. He drew her other hand and held it in his own as he began to slowly circle them around the floor to the gentle melody.

Her eyes widened in realization that they were dancing, and she smiled up at him.

Severus swore this moment, sweet merciful Merlin, this moment he would never forget for the rest of his life.

He said, "We shall go slowly, Hermione. You will enjoy yourself every step of the way. I will ensure it." So saying, he brought her closer to him so she could feel his desire and gave a slow roll of his hips.

She gasped, her eyes darkening.

He drew her mouth to his, and with the softest of pressure from him, her lips parted. Slowly, savoring, he kissed her, giving teasing little nips along her jaw and neck as he intoned softly, "Tonight, you are queen, Hermione. And I am yours to command. There will be no embarrassment between us for anything we do together is pure and right. You will tell me what you like, and I will learn so I may know you better."

Bending, Severus picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed they shared where he lay her down upon the sheets.

She bit her lip, looking uncertain, and Severus could see she was trying valiantly to overcome her shyness.

With a wave of his hand, the candles on the nightstand sputtered to life, and with a whispered 'nox', the room was plunged in darkness save for candlelight.

He saw her relax slightly, and he climbed upon the bed to look down at her, his hair forming a curtain for them both. "You are beautiful, witch." Severus cupped her face in his palm and drew her up for a tender kiss. Encouraging her to put arms around him, he let his hands roam up and down her sides, teasingly along her collarbone and in between her breasts, mentally marking the terrain.

Her breath hitched when he sucked below her ear, nuzzling her neck, and she moaned, pulling him closer.

He began to slowly raise the nightgown she wore until his hand encountered her thigh, and moving slightly upward with his thumb, he stroked her through the scrap of silk she wore underneath the gown.

She clutched at his shoulders and looked at him, maidenly shyness once more taking hold.

"Slow. We go slowly, my girl, and whenever we join, you will be well-prepared for it."

Nodding, she relaxed once more in his embrace, and he kissed her carefully, going back to where it seemed she was most comfortable. At length, he had his lips distract her while his hands removed the silken barrier. He thumbed the pearl of flesh at her feminine center, and she grew rigid, shyness once more returning.

He studied her with a level stare as he continued his thumb's steady massage. "Do you like me touching you like this, Hermione?"

She nodded, words, it seemed, beyond her.

Severus didn't stop his gentle massage, feeling her labia begin to swell as she became more aroused, noting her heightened color, her hitched breathing.

He continued his steady, metronomic pace, and when she came for him, it was on the softest of sighs.

Inserting one finger into her feminine folds, he prolonged her climax as much as he dared, slowly plunging in and out, mimicking what was going to occur between them.

He felt her little muscles begin to pulse around his questing finger, and he stroked in a beckoning motion, searching for and finding that spot that would send her careening towards ecstasy once more.

This time a small moan broke free, and Severus was gratified.

Little did Hermione Snape know, by the end of tonight she would be begging for him.

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Dear Gods! That was the only thought that would process during the onslaught of sensation coursing through her as his mouth, his hands, his finger— Ah gods, his finger!— did such wickedly-wonderful things to her.

She had practiced with herself, of course, but she'd never dreamed this would be what it was like to be taken.

"Raise up for me, my girl," he said, and she did so, feeling exposed to the cool dungeon air. She opened her eyes to see she was now unclothed.

His eyes were filled with desire as he took his first look at her bared flesh, and his heated expression filled her with confidence. This was her first and only experience undressing before a man. Her nerves refused to be quieted, but at his look of… yearning, she found her courage.

He whispered, "Perfect. You are perfect."

"I am yours," she said definitively, the first words she had spoken since she asked him to take her to bed.

His eyes flared to hers as he said lowly, "You better mean that, wife."

"Only yours, husband," she countered, gathering her new-found confidence and rising to her knees until she was kneeling before him. Reaching, she removed his shirt from his shoulders leaving him bare-chested.

She took a deep breath and offering her neck, met his admiring stare with one of her own. "Claim what's yours."

On a growl, his mouth descended on hers, and he was pushing her back to the bed and kicking himself free of his trousers. Flesh met flesh and sinuous strength met curved softness. He drew one pearl-tipped breast into his mouth and sucked it gently.

She moaned and reaching, she found his shaft and began to touch him.

He grew still and looked at her.

"Show me how," she commanded.

His eyes filled with delight as he took her hand in his and placed it on himself. Using her hand, he stroked himself, and Hermione familiarized herself with the rhythm and pressure he enjoyed. Feeling a bead of moisture along the head of him, she used her thumb and spread it around the tip.

Suddenly, he stopped her progress and shook his head. "I have my limits, witch. Now lay back. You need to come for me again."

His words sent a shiver of delight through her as he brought his weight fully to bear atop hers and began once more to kiss her all over. She felt the comforting, heavy weight of him for just a moment before he was parting her thighs and ducking his head.

He tasted her, running his tongue teasingly along her folds before gently laving her clit, and it wasn't long before Hermione felt another climax overtake her. When she came back to her senses, it was to see him above her, looking down with a somber expression on his face.

"Are you ready, Hermione? There is no turning back from this," he said seriously.

Swallowing, she said, "Now, Severus. Please, now."

With deliberate care, he rubbed himself along her damp folds, and with his eyes on hers, breeched her entrance.

She gasped, feeling her small passage begin to accommodate his girth. He pulled out and rubbed himself along her folds once more before trying again, this time a bit further. Once more he did this, and then Hermione felt him abut against her maiden head.

He looked into her eyes and said, "I love you, Hermione," and then he pushed through.

There was a momentary pain. She closed her eyes and breathed through it as he held very still letting her adjust to the feeling of his complete possession. Oh, it was a strange intrusion to be sure, but with every moment that passed, the pain was lessening.

Breathing shakily, Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, moving slightly within her as he shifted positions.

In answer she gasped, her eyes going wide with wonder.

He smirked, "Yes, Madam Snape, I do believe you're alright. Now, we shall go slowly." So saying, her husband lowered himself to his elbows and began to glide inch by inch in and out of her.

It was an unusual feeling, being filled with him, but it wasn't long before Hermione felt her muscles clutching and pulling around his shaft, craving more contact, more motion.

Craving more.

"Severus," she growled impatiently, trying to get him to move faster, sweat beading along her brow.

He shook his head and grinned, "Slow and steady, remember wife?" He gave a luxurious roll of his hips, and Hermione felt her climax give way as a gentle wave overtaking her. He picked up the pace while she was recovering, and what was a light rain of sensation became a torrent. She groaned her appreciation, her head falling back as she felt another climax begin to build.

He plunged one, two, three times in rapid succession making her moan, and then stopped all movement, staring down at her.

He was toying with her.

"Would you like more control, wife?" he asked, his onyx eyes shining bright.

"Yes," she grit between clenched teeth.

Still staying joined, he rolled them until she was above him.

"I give you free reign, my queen. Do with your servant as you will."

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Good gods, she was magnificent! Sitting astride him as she was, her hair—that glorious curtain of mussed curls—brushing the tops of his thighs as she bowed her back, preparing to ride.

Raising his knees, Severus helped her start the rhythm, gasping from the first movement as her tight inner muscles began to milk and massage him.

Both moaned as she quickened the pace, riding him once more to her completion.

Severus loosed the rein of his control, and let her movements begin to build his pleasure, preparing for the final tumble. His wife was absolutely stunning: her eyes vivid and bright, her color flushed and heightened, her breathing slightly labored as she worked above him.

Taking over, Severus bobbed his knees up and down, jostling them both and sending her on a merry ride atop him. Her moans of rapture were music to his ears, and he came to the sound of her shouting his name.

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A/N: Is it hot in here? *fans self*

The song Severus was listening to is 'Wicked Game' by Chris Isaak, fitting in with Hermione's muggle 90's pop music taste.

 **Help wanted: Authoress seeks attentive readers to read and review her work. Qualifications: none.**

 **To Apply, click 'review' button and submit a response.**

 **Thank you,**

 **-k**


	7. The Cards You're Dealt

Ch. 7— The Cards You're Dealt

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Hermione awoke to find her husband staring at her as he held her cocooned in his embrace.

She smiled gently. "Good morning, husband."

"Good morning, wife" he echoed, just as gently. "How do you feel?"

She took a moment to check in with her body, and she settled for "pleasantly sore."

"Would you like a potion to ease your discomfort?"

She shook her head, moving to kiss his cheek before rising from the bed.

He followed her and stared at her intently. "Would you like a contraceptive potion, Hermione?"

She looked at him in surprise, and suddenly, she knew he knew what Ron, she, and Ginny were planning for later today.

Biting her lip, she dispelled the uncertainty she felt and followed through with the decision she made last night. Shaking her head, she said, "No, husband. I do not. Come what may, I am yours… just as you are mine. And I am going to stay right here tucked to your side… always."

He visibly relaxed, and his eyes, oh his eyes burned for her as he stated, "I will try my best, Hermione, to make certain you never regret your choice." So saying, he drew her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Now, are you ready to start your day, wife? Among other things, you have double potions with a hard task-master of a professor who intends to drive you to the brink so you may succeed."

She tried not to smirk. "Oh, you drove me to the brink several times last night, professor."

"Saucy wench," he said approvingly, "go get dressed while I get breakfast. You'll need your strength today." He patted her on her bottom and sent her on her way to the bathroom with a smile a mile wide on her face. Gods, to be loved by this man was heady stuff, heady stuff indeed!

She finished dressing and came out to see he was in his teaching robes seated at the table. Upon seeing her, he gained his feet and went to her chair, pulling it out for her. As she sat, he kissed her cheek.

"Tell me something I do not know about you, Hermione," he entreated as they began to eat.

Not expecting his question, she answered haltingly, "I am… terrible at cooking charms."

"We have elves to cook for us, witch. Tell me another."

"I errm… enjoy taking long baths, sometimes if the book is good, for two hours at a stretch."

"Then we shall make time for it," he said definitively. "What's your favorite genre of reading for enjoyment?" he asked serving her some potatoes.

"Mystery. Specifically romantic mystery."

His eyes sparkled at that. "If you have fantasies, I will try to fulfill them. Tell me one," he ordered.

She shook her head. "Too much too soon, professor. My turn. Tell me something I don't know about you."

He looked at her wickedly. "I enjoy footrubs."

She giggled, "Oh, I think I can accommodate that. Another?"

"I appreciate muggle cinema. Action-adventure specifically."

Her eyebrows rose. "James Bond?"

"Never miss a film."

She snorted, "If you have fantasies, I will try to fulfill them." She saluted him with her pumpkin juice, "Pussy Galore, indeed."

He looked over his coffee mug at her, his eyes crinkling. "Indeed, wife. Indeed."

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Severus watched his wife as she completed the strength enhancement solution he had assigned the seventh years.

He had made a point to treat her as he always had in class, and she had followed suit. Only once had he approached her to survey her potion, and with his back to the class, he had cupped her shapely arse in his hand and squeezed.

The contact had set her to blushing beautifully.

"Now," he addressed them all once their potions had been decanted and awaited sampling on his desk, "I do not know if you are aware, but over the weekend two of Hogwarts' students were set upon by their classmates and attacked."

He watched as several eyes went wide with surprise save for his Slytherins. Many of them looked scared. Severus studied Ginevra Weasley, her expression was pale and thin-lipped.

He continued, "In fact, one of your classmates was killed due to his behavior." Gasps were heard all around the room. Severus nodded and met the eyes of each and every one of his snakes. "The rest involved have been sent to the Ministry for trial and sentencing."

A hand shot up from a fifth year Gryffindor girl.

Severus tried not to get annoyed, "Yes, Miss Ternvlad."

"What happened, sir?" the girl asked.

Instead of answering her question, Severus stated, "These are dangerous times for every witch in our society be they inside Hogwarts school or not. Gentlemen, I expect you to treat your female classmates with reverence, respect, politeness, and courtesy. If I see you being uncourteous, there will be hell to pay, and let me tell you a loss of house points and cauldron scrubbing are child's play for what I have in store. Let it be known from here forward, there will be a zero-tolerance policy where bullying, and that does mean _any_ bullying, is concerned. Now, class dismissed."

Severus watched them go and was pleased to see the young men letting their female counterparts leave first. Yes, this was a first step, and an important one to seeing the tide turn regarding feminine treatment in this new wizarding world.

As his wife prepared to leave, Severus stated, "Madam Snape, a word."

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Hermione hung back and waited for the rest of the class to exit before she approached his desk.

Severus advised her, "You will be vigilant, yes? And careful as pertains to your classmates' behavior?"

She nodded, her eyes crinkling, "Of course, professor. As Mad Eye would have said, 'Constant Vigilance'."

"Yes, you just keep that bushy head of yours on a swivel alright? I don't know what I'd do if I…" _lost you._ his eyes said.

Her heart skipped time as she saw his concern for her writ plainly on his face, and she reached for his hand, bringing it up to her cheek. "I can protect myself, Severus. I won't be caught off guard again. Now, I must go. Arithmancy class waits for no man… or woman. By the way, do you know where Ron was today? I need to speak with him."

His expression closed off. "I am not Mr. Weasley's keeper, Madam Snape. I suggest you go find the red-headed menace if you need him."

Tsk'ing at his coldness, Hermione squeezed his hand once before releasing it and grabbing her things to go.

"Oh, and Madam Snape," he stopped her, and she looked over her shoulder.

He smirked, "Three points to Slytherin for an expertly crafted potion."

She laughed as she shook her head. Potions bastard.

Ron caught up with her at lunch and drew her aside.

"Here is the Maurader's map, Hermione. George and Charlie are ready to meet us tonight, and Ginny and I will come meet you—"

"Ron," she interrupted gently, her eyes meeting his. "I can't go."

He looked at her incredulous. "Of course you're going! We're leaving tonight, the three of us…."

She shook her head, "Professor Snape and I…."

His face turned green.

She pushed through, "We're married fully now, Ron, and I refuse to leave him."

"But you don't want to have children," he voiced softly.

"No, but I don't want to leave my—" _husband_. She bit her lip. "I have chosen to stay and work through the problems I shall face, but you… you need to take Ginny and go."

He looked torn. "I don't want to go without you, Hermione." And that's when it clicked into place, and she saw his love for her—his longing for her—shining in his eyes.

"Oh, Ron," she said, dismayed. "Why didn't you tell—"

"Tell you?" he asked, "I asked you to marry me, Hermione. I've wanted you for myself for so long…."

She closed her eyes, unable to hear any more. "We're friends, Ron. The best of friends."

He reached for her and touched her cheek, "I will settle for that, Hermione. I will, but it's a bitter pill to swallow that you've chosen… well, who you've chosen."

Nodding, she said softly, "I'll miss you."

"And I you. I'm going to keep the map, and we'll still go tonight. If for any reason, any reason at all, you change your mind, then contact me by the galleon you enchanted for our fifth year, and I'll be here. Yeah?"

"Yes."

Pulling her close, he hugged her. "I'll always love you, you know that, right?"

A tear fell before she could help it. "And I you."

"Goodbye." He kissed her on the cheek and turned to go.

Feeling bereft, Hermione watched him go, seeing her husband watching her as she did so.

Her smile wobbly, she met Severus's eyes, and he nodded in understanding.

One chapter of her life had closed, another set to begin.

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Severus studied her as she sat at her desk, quill poised at her lip as she read through her transfiguration text. She had been preoccupied all evening, and it was with little wonder why. The Weasley whelp and Ginevra were set to leave tonight.

It would be a small matter to catch them as they crept out of the Gryffindor Common Room, map or no, but he wished his wife would come to him with this problem of hers, so they could discuss it together.

He watched as she put down the quill and scrubbed at her face tiredly.

"What has you so bothered, witch?"

Startled, she looked over at him and gave him a lopsided grin. "Am I as transparent as all that?"

He nodded, "In the few weeks I have been observing you, wife, I have gathered a baseline of your emotions, and I can tell something is bothering you. Out with it."

She opened her mouth and then closed it again.

Severus thought to help her out, "If this is about Weasley's plan to leave tonight, I am fully aware of it."

Nodding her head, she whispered, "I thought as much."

Severus' heart lurched. "Are you upset you are not going with them?"

Smiling reluctantly, she said, "No. Nothing like that. I just… I hate to see them go. They are my family now, and I'll miss them terribly."

"You forget the cards you have been dealt, Hermione," he stated simply.

She looked at him, not seeing the correlation.

He gave her a level stare. "You need to hone your gifts. Once the Ministry of Magic learns you can do Kindare, the world will be yours for the asking, and as I've said before, you can name your price. For example, you can bargain for the freedom of one Ginevra Weasley from a certain marriage contract should you wish it."

She smiled widely, but then her smile faltered. "But I'm lightyears away from completing my training, professor, and I still have the better part of seventh year to get through, and—"

"I was giving thought to that as well," Severus interrupted, "and I had wanted to bring this up when I was certain you were with child."

She looked at him expectant.

"Hogwarts has an accelerated program for those seventh-year witches and wizards who wish to complete their N.E.W.T.s and get out into the workforce as soon as possible. It involves taking your classes in specialization one at a time, working through your coursework for that class all at once over the span of six weeks to complete the requirement and move on to the next. You would take your N.E.W.T.s as you go and complete the required coursework you have remaining sometime in March by my calculation. Once completed, you could begin your internship with St. Mungo's and begin to hone your craft. What say you, witch?"

She smiled, "It sounds wonderful actually, but how will this help Ginny?"

"If you can persuade Miss Weasley to stay at the school through the end of the week, I will schedule a meeting with St. Mungo's head healer Dimitri Knollwood. Once he finds out what you can do, he will want you to be finished with your secondary schooling as soon as possible and will push for this to be the case. It is then at this meeting, you will bring up your list of demands. Knollwood and the Minister of Magic are on friendly terms. He will not disappoint you."

She bit her lip. "It sounds like a lot of effort, but if it works, then Ginny can stay to complete her schooling and not have to worry about Lucius Malfoy's advances."

Severus gave a mental shake of his head. Even if the girl's bride price is given back in full, there was no way his friend was going to give up on pledging his suit. In fact, this would ensure Lucius would almost double his efforts to win the girl. But of this Severus said nothing.

"Well, what say you, madam wife?"

She nodded, "I need to go to the Gryffindor Common Room now before it's too late."

"Then I shall escort you. It would not do to have a student caught out of bounds. Why I might be compelled to take house points," he stated gleefully.

She laughed.

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Hermione walked with her husband as he escorted them through the halls. His robes, far from being in full billow, were solicitously at his side as he shortened his stride to keep pace with her. Still, she hurried as fast as she could not knowing if she had missed her chance with her friends or not.

If she could stop them from leaving, then it meant Ron and Ginny would not be in trouble with the Ministry. It meant Ginny would not need to go in hiding at all.

She was sure Ron's eyebrows were at his hairline when he was looking at the map by now, and she gulped hoping he didn't think she was a traitor.

Suddenly, Severus drew them up short and motioned they should be quiet.

It wasn't long before Hermione heard what he did: quiet, shushing footfalls coming around the corner. The sounds stopped and then slowly began to recede. Rolling her eyes, Hermione broke away from her husband and made for the sound, calling out "Ron", Ginny! It's okay, it's me."

She rounded the corner and looked to the side of her vision to see two disillusioned shapes. Pointing her wand, she sub-voiced 'finite incantatem' and watched as their two forms materialized into view.

Clutching the map, Ron looked at her furiously and pointed. "You told him our plan, Hermione!" he accused, and she could see betrayal written all over his face. "How could you?"

Shaking her head, she said, "I have a plan that doesn't involve either of you going to Azkaban if you're caught."

She saw Ginny was intrigued, but Ron stubbornly shook his head.

He pointed his wand, and Hermione realized he was pointing it at Severus.

She moved to stand in front of him. "Ron!"

As quick as a flash, she was being forcibly shoved behind Severus, and Ron's wand went flying into her husband's outstretched palm. "For that you could be expelled, boy," he hissed acidly. "You might yet still be at that."

Ron's countenance darkened. "I don't give a damn. Give me back my wand, _professor_. We are leaving. Tonight."

"Ron, please," Hermione entreated softly as she ducked under her husband's arm and came to stand beside her friend. "Just… please hear me out before you go off on this madcap scheme. There's a better way," she insisted.

"As charming as this conversation is, I am going to suggest we move it to a more private venue than the hallway. The portraits have ears, and the headmistress need not be made aware of this. We shall go to the Room of Requirement, and then after you listen to what my wife has said, and the two of you still want to leave, I will not stand in your way. In fact, Weasley, I'll be the first to see you off."

Giving Severus a measured look, Ron said, "Yeah, alright," and turned to lead the way with Hermione and Ginny following, Severus at their backs.

"This feels so odd," Ginny stated lowly, "to have him treat us this way."

"I am treating you like the adults you are soon to become, Miss Weasley," Severus broke in, proving his ears were perfect. "Now, Room reveal yourself."

At his words, the Room materialized in front of them: a cozy little door opening to reveal a space very much appointed like the Snape's study with a roaring fireplace, a sofa, and two wingback chairs. Ginny and Hermione took the sofa, leaving the chairs for Severus and Ron.

Hermione watched as tea for four was served on the table between, and Severus wandless passed the cups to the three of them, leaving his own untouched on the table. Ron sat his down as well, and stood.

"What's this plan, Hermione? George's waiting for us."

She bit her lip and prayed for patience as she stated, "I have discovered I have a very useful skill the Ministry of Magic will want to use very badly, St. Mungo's in particular. It's called 'Kindare magic', and it's used to sort out magical maladies and help heal and limit curse damage. It is rare, exceedingly so, and Severus—Professor Snape seems to think this will give me bargaining power with the Ministry when I reveal what I can do."

"Yeah, alright," he grumbled. "Good on you. How does this help us?"

"Weasley, you will address my wife with respect. I will not tell you again."

Ron's eyes flared with anger. "Look, you wanker. I've had just about enough of you. She was my friend first before she was your wife, and I'll talk to her as I bloody well please."

Hermione's face grew red, and she stated primly, "Well, I do hope you'll want to give me _some_ respect, Ronald. After all, I'm trying to keep the two of you from exile from the wizarding world and Azkaban if you're caught."

Ginny interrupted softly, "Please, Hermione. Tell us how this will help. I don't want to go into hiding if I don't absolutely have to."

Hermione nodded, "Professor Snape is going to have us meet with the head healer of St. Mungo's later this week, and it's at this time I will give him the list of demands I have for choosing to intern there. Professor Snape thinks I could take this skill anywhere, and since it is exceedingly rare, it gives me quite a bit of bargaining power."

She smiled at the younger witch, "I will ask for St. Mungo's to buy out your bride price, Ginny, so you don't have to marry." She shook her head, "You won't have to marry at all if you don't wish it. I'll insure it."

The girl's eyes lit up, shining bright. "Oh, Hermione!" She hugged Hermione tightly to her. "But what if the Ministry insists?"

Her husband shook his head. "They will not, especially when they see what my wife can do."

"And just what can you do, Hermione?" Ron asked skeptically.

"She can apply precision focus, Weasley, targeting a person's magic from within, and with practice, she will be able to help heal it should something be amiss."

At his words, Ron's eyes widened. "That means you can heal…"

"Almost anything concerning a person's magic," Severus finished. "She just needs to locate the damage and remove the taint."

Ron looked at her with newfound respect, and she blushed. "I always knew you were special, but gods, Hermione!"

Ginny smiled, but then her smile faltered, "But what about George and Charlie? They'll be waiting for us. And the portkey. If this doesn't go according to plan…"

"Then you can go, and again, I will not stand in your way," Severus stated. "Now, where is your brother Charlie?"

"Waiting for us at the Burrow. We were going to port tonight."

Severus nodded, and drawing his wand, summoned his patronus. It was a hawk.

"Go tell both Mr. Weasleys their brother and sister will not be joining them this night, and they, the two brothers, shall be expected to appear at Hogwarts this Friday after dinner to talk about their siblings' futures." The hawk nodded his head regally, and with a 'swoosh' was gone.

Severus gave the red-headed girl a level look, "If I wasn't certain of the outcome, Miss Weasley, I would let you go. As it is, I want to help guard your future as much as possible."

Ron snorted, and Hermione looked at him curiously.

" _Her_ future. But you couldn't give a damn about mine."

Her husband smiled cruelly. "Hmm, no. I couldn't."

Hermione swallowed, clearly seeing something amiss. "Ron what—"

Ron turned on her, anger mottling his face. "He's kicked me out of both Defense and Potions, Hermione. It happened when I first approached you about running away."

"He did what?" Hermione screeched, giving Severus a sharp look. "You did?"

Far from being ashamed, Severus straightened in his chair and looked down his nose at them all. "I did what I had to do, madam wife. Otherwise there would have been blood drawn, and it would not have been mine."

"Like hell!" Hermione rounded on him, rising from her seat and coming to stand before him. She narrowed her eyes, "It's his dream of becoming an Auror, Severus! You will not steal his future from him due to a fit of pique. It's beneath you."

She watched her husband grit his jaw as he stared her down.

Hermione didn't back down, standing taller, knowing she had the higher ground.

At length, he huffed, "Fine, _wife_. Weasley will resume his classes with me tomorrow. However, it's on his own merit whether or not he passes them." His tone was doubtful on that score.

Hermione lifted her nose and sniffed. "I will be checking all of his work, _husband_ , and if the marks he gets back are not fair, then you and I will have more than words between us."

Ginny cleared her throat, and with a start, Hermione looked over her shoulder. The red-headed girl was a beat away from laughing.

Blushing, Hermione sat down again, and pursing her lips, tried to school her expression to calm once more.

Suddenly a streak of light passed under the doorway, and a silver dragon could be seen forming before them all. "Professor Snape," the patronus greeted, and Charlie Weasley's voice advised, "You can expect George and I at Hogwarts this Friday. Good evening." The patronus dissolved, and silence reigned.

After a moment, Severus spoke, "Now, I would like the two of you to return to your beds. I will send word via my wife when the meeting is scheduled."

Hermione heard the words 'bloody wanker' uttered sotto voce from Ron and closed her eyes. If Severus didn't kill him, she would.

She looked over at her husband to see his hand was hovering at his wand, but he didn't reach for it, and this, Hermione thought, was to his credit.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Right then. To bed with us all. Ginny, I'll see you in Arithmancy tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you in Defense, Ron." Hermione made a point to look at her husband at that. His expression was blank-faced, but she could tell he wanted to smirk.

"Good night," Hermione bid them once Severus had escorted the two back to Gryffindor Tower.

Leaning in, Ginny kissed her cheek and whispered, "Thank you, Hermione. You truly are a wonderful friend."

With a sigh of relief at seeing the portrait closed, Hermione rounded on her husband and gave him a scathing stare. "Honestly!"

He smiled wryly and shrugged, "I wasn't about to lose you to that whelp, witch. He is unworthy of you."

"He is my best friend," she grit stubbornly.

"Which is why I didn't hex him to oblivion tonight. Now, come. The hour grows late, and I would have you moaning my name while I plunge into your depths if you'll permit it?"

Blushing, Hermione nodded and together they strode through the hall, Severus's robes in full billow, and Hermione keeping up most admirably.

And yes she did, indeed, moan his name.

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Straightening the collar of the blouse she wore and the seam at the back of her skirt, Severus watched as his wife once more checked herself in the mirror. Rolling her eyes, she pulled a face at her reflection. She had made an attempt to look the part of 'competent professional', but her youth shown through even though she hid behind a set of 'adult' witch's dressrobes and a bun for her unruly curls.

Severus shook his head as he came up behind her, meeting her eyes through the glass. "If only you could see yourself the way I see you, witch. You would never doubt yourself. You are stunning, Hermione."

She shook her head not believing a word.

Sighing, Severus kissed her on the cheek and with a 'quit fussing', he all but dragged her out of the bathroom to the floo.

"What are our plans again tonight?" she asked, grabbing her cloak.

Severus explained, "We are meeting with Healer Knollwood in a half hour. I do not anticipate the lasting more than an hour at most. From there, you and I will have dinner, and then go to Knocturn Alley for my ingredients."

He saw her look of dismay. "But what about my homework, Severus?" she asked in a small voice.

Severus shook his head. "This Friday I have scheduled a meeting with your professors and the Headmistress. We are going to get you on the accelerated path, wife. By this coming Monday, your head will be so filled with Charms' work, you will quite forget any other subject exists."

His words setting her at ease, she nodded, and taking a handful of 'floo' powder, stepped through the grate. With that assurance she announced 'St. Mungo's' and spun away.

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The meeting with Healer Knollwood went better than Hermione expected; the healer asking to view the memory of her performing Kindare magic.

Once the memory was completed, the healer exited the Pensieve, his eyebrows raised. "That was… quite impressive, young lady, and I would count St. Mungo's blessed to have one such as you in our rank. That is, of course, when you're trained up a bit first. It will take you approximately seven years to master your apprenticeship and complete your residency, but we could have you doing preliminary work with Kindare as soon as this summer if you'll permit it, Severus?"

Her husband shook his head. "That is for Mrs. Snape to decide, Knollwood, not myself. As you can expect, my wife has a list of requirements to be met at Hogwarts before she is able to begin work with you."

"Naturally," the healer acknowledged, "And as such, you will want her to complete any side projects you may have as well."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, not liking being talked over. "Gentlemen, the lady in question is sitting right here, and she does have a few things to say."

Healer Knollwood's attention snapped to her, and he looked chagrined. Severus, however, looked amused.

She continued, "I have a rather large request, sir, and I hope you'll be good enough to fulfill it. One of my friends has been slated to be married. She is an underage witch who was given clemency to finish her education before she would be compelled to… reproduce." Hermione pushed through, watching the healer's expression turn to one of sympathy.

"You should know, Mrs. Snape, I do not condone the direction the Ministry has decided to take the Wizarding World and its treatment, especially, of its witches. In fact, I know very few wizards that do."

"And yet," her husband said softly, "The law remains in effect, and every day more and more witches' lives are ruined because of it."

"Yes," the healer nodded, "it is a sad state we live in at present, but there is hope. Temperence Birewood is campaigning to be lead Mugwamp this year, and she is well-respected. Her platform is the abolishment of this law. Also, you should know the Minister of Magic is sympathetic to a witch's plight, but he can do nothing once the Wizangamut have decided their course." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Alas, politics."

"Yes," Hermione said disapprovingly, "My friend's plight being what it is, I want to know if you can speak to the Minister of Magic and get a dissolution of her marriage contract regarding one Lucius Malfoy. I want it stated in writing that my friend does not have to get married unless she wants to, and to whomever she wants, and I want this contract to be ironclad. It is then and only then I will agree to intern at St. Mungo's and complete my certification as a Healer to train in the way of Kindare magic."

Once more, the healer's eyebrows shot up. "My, but you are a bit of an extortionist are you not?"

She shook her head, "No, but I am sincerely concerned about the welfare of my friend."

Healer Knollwood nodded his head. "I'll see what I can do, Mrs. Snape, and since Minister Vespasian and I are on such good terms, I see no reason for this to be an issue. I am meeting with him tonight as luck may have it, and so, I should have an answer for you tomorrow."

Smiling, Hermione and Severus stood, their meeting at an end. Healer Knollwood did stop them before they left, however, by saying, "By the way, my dear, what are your marks on your O.W.L.'s and in your classes."

Severus snorted, and said, "She is the brightest witch of her age, Dimitri. You'll be lucky to have one such as her on your staff."

So saying, they left, Hermione's smile a beacon to all who came across it. Those who saw it, more often than not, gave an echoing smile in return, brightened by the happy, young witch.

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Severus watched his wife as she finished her meal, marveling at the turn his life had taken.

Never had he thought he would be dining with a beautiful witch, let alone married to one, and feeling so at ease as they discussed plans for their future together.

"Naturally, you will 'floo' from St. Mungo's to our quarters each day once your apprenticeship begins. You do not suffer any ill effects from that, do you?"

She shook her head, and he was relieved.

Their errand to Knockturn Alley completed, Severus escorted his wife through Diagon Alley back to the Leaky to catch a 'floo' to home, when she stopped and stared around, looking sad.

"It's so quiet here, Severus."

He, too, looked around, seeing the barren street where once there was the hustle and bustle of commerce, many shopfronts having closed due to death and lack of business.

"It will thrive again one day, wife. The wizarding world shall recover, and Diagon Alley will be its unbearably crowded and ungodly oppressive self once more."

She laughed and rolled her eyes at him. "May you never change, Severus Snape."

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Hermione did, in the end, get Ginny's bride price returned to one Lucius Malfoy and Ginny's marriage contract dissolved. And too, Hermione was granted permission to attain her N.E.W.T.'s one at a time at an accelerated pace. Severus had been right, her head was so filled with schoolwork, she quite forgot anything else existed.

Which was why on the morning of her sixth week of marriage, the nausea she felt caught her off guard, and with a rush, she made it the bathroom just in time.

Severus made it to the basin a beat later, holding her hair and helping to banish the sick. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and her heart in her throat.

Her husband said softly, "I think we may need to visit Madam Badouin, wife."

Shakily, Hermione nodded her head, and with Severus' help, got off the floor.

"Do you think I could be…" she asked hesitantly.

"I think it highly likely. It was your peak ovulation, and fertility potion or no, we are very compatible with one another. Not to mention, you haven't had your menses since we've married. I've been keeping track."

"Of course you have," she shook her head fondly, and then regretted it. "Hold on! Hold—" Hermione broke free of his arms and made it to the bowl just in time. "Go," she said weakly a moment later. "Just go. I'll make my home here." She patted the porcelain bowl.

"Nonsense," he said, and reached for her again. "If you're expecting, then I have potions you will take, witch. You'll not feel this way again."

"Promises, promises," she said shakily, and once more tried to gain her feet with his help.

"Guarantees, Madam Snape. Come on, let's get you dressed and up to the hospital wing."

"You sound eager, Severus," she smiled wanly at him.

He looked at her seriously. "If this is not something you want, Hermione, and I know it is not, the zygote is still just that. There are things that can be do—"

"Severus Snape, you hold on right there," she all but shrieked. "Don't you dare think of aborting our child!" She cradled her stomach protectively.

"Possible child, madam wife," he said, trying not to smirk. "So, I take it if you are, then you want her to be a reality for us then, hmm?"

"Yes, I would want _him_ , husband mine," she sniffed. "I just… I thought I'd have more time to get used to the idea is all. Oh, what a mess! I just started my Transfiguration coursework, and I've yet to find out the results from my Charms N.E.W.T., and oh, how am I going to fit everything I've got to do in and juggle a baby on top?" She looked up at him forlorn.

He smiled, his eyes full of gentleness for her. "Oh, we'll manage, wife. We'll manage just fine."

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Epilogue

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Hermione looked over at her son as he toddled down the slide in the Hogwarts nursery while Turney the house elf kept careful watch of the two-year-old boy. She looked over at her husband as she absently massaged the away the twinges of pain she'd been experiencing all day.

He came up behind her and hugged her, his hands barely reaching around her protruding middle. "Are you certain you don't want to cancel with Lucius and Ginevra? It would be a simple matter, and I know how tired you'll be after your clinicals this afternoon."

She shook her head. "No, I'd love to see them. After all, their wedding was last week, and they're leaving tomorrow and will be gone for a few months at least. Leave it to Lucius to want to take Ginny on a tour of the Continent. Ah," Hermione hissed.

Severus was instantly alert. "What is it, witch? Out with it."

"It's Braxton Hicks contractions, nothing to worry about, husband." She rubbed the pain away.

"Hmm, if you're certain, Hermione. I want to be sure. I know your time isn't until next month, but I don't want you to travel if this continues. Remember what happed with Damien. You almost had him in the floo."

"Oh, worry wart," she tutted, "Ah, Severus, isn't our son beautiful?" she asked her husband as they looked upon their child at play with the other professors' children. Hogwarts now had an influx of babies to tend due to the Marriage Law, and while it wasn't yet rescinded, the Ministry no longer demanded a bride price be paid for each couple to be matched leading to more marriages than ever. And too, the majority of them were happy ones.

"The lad has a certain… charm, yes," her husband said.

"With that hair as black as a raven's wing," she went on.

"And," Severus stated morosely, "he inherited my nose."

"Your nose has character," she said, turning and kissing said proboscis under discussion.

"My nose is an abomination, and I am sorry to have passed it on."

She gasped, "Severus Snape, don't you say that! What will our Clara think?" She clutched her belly protectively.

"That her father hopes for her sake she inherits her mother's bushy curls, button nose, and beautiful smile."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "You're a charmer, Severus Snape."

He drew her in his arms and kissed her soundly, saying, "I am yours, madam wife. Yours. Just as you are mine."

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The End.

A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING MY STORY! I would love to hear what you think, so if you'd be so kind as to leave a review in the kitty on your way out the door, I would be very grateful. Also, if you have a moment, and it's your thang, feel free to read my other stories featuring Severus Snape and Hermione Granger… and a Mr. Lucius Malfoy as well. *wink.

Until next time, my dears,

-k


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